Prince of Persia: Crimson and Shadows
by War of Glass
Summary: Set after Two Thrones. When the Prince has everything he could ever want, a lovely princess, a promising son, respect, love, and finally the peace he sought after for so long, how could it ever be taken away? And yes, the Prince still houses his...secret.
1. All Manner of Creatures

**Disclaimer: Although I wish, I don't own PoP...any of them. I do own the games, though, if that's any consolation. To me it is. **

**Mistake from "Father- to "Farah" has been fixed.**

Chapter 1 "All Manner of Creatures…"

The Prince peered out from his room, looking out at his potent kingdom, vast and full of vigor. He brushed back his long, brown hair from his eyes as he watched the merchant's trade rice and fish at the docks, the soldier's stand their usual posts and the children skip rocks into the ocean down near the ships, careful not to interfere with the trades. This was a glorious day. It had been years since the Prince had inherited his father's kingdom and riches once again, and had spent it all making Babylon a wondrous place again. He now had a baby boy, and a wife fit for the Gods.

A young servant came into the room; he was lean and short, and gaunt-faced, and he maybe was still a boy. He walked barefoot and little slivers could be seen on the soles every time he picked up his feet. He may have looked malnourished but that was not the case, as the kingdom cared for all of its inhabitants. His gauntness was a genetic physical appearance. He hurried over to a table and set down food with carefulness. The food itself was unfamiliar to the Prince but the smell of it was intoxicating, an array of spiciness and sweetness at the same time.

"Not now, Sashide, I'm in no mood for food." The Prince spoke, putting his hand on the servant's shoulder before the boy could exit. "Thank you, anyway." He added, smiling.

Sashide gave a sincere look of acceptance and picked the plate back up, and then started out of the room.

The Prince leaned on the banister that separated the balcony from the rest of the room; he perked his head up as he remembered something. "While you're here, have you seen my wife around?"

"I…would suspect she is at the bathes, my liege. I saw her walking there with two other women."

The Prince nodded his head and turned away, releasing the banister. The boy took that as a cue to leave. He hopped down from the balcony and leisurely sauntered towards a marble water bowl that was mounted to the wall. There was a worn, tattered rag on the edge of it and he picked it up and dipped it into the bowl, then he wrung it out and put it to his face. He winced at a week-old scar that slept on the lower corner of his face and immediately dropped the rag; it splashed back into the bowl as a dead frog would a pond, floating gently on the surface. He touched a finger to it and he winced again, the hiss of a snake erupting from him.

"I _must_ stop these skirmishes." He sighed.

Leaping up, he proceeded to finish washing his face and arms and shoulders. Realizing how much time had passed, he left the room in a hurry.

A youthful, appealing dark skinned woman who wore a light blue veil over her head poured water from a concrete jug that sat in her crossed lap. And on the opposite side of her, another woman did the same. The two waterfalls met at the curve of a woman's shoulders, and then slid gracefully into the bath, that sprinkled with rose petals. Up from the water rose an angel, only her soaking wings weren't spread. Her hair rested on her back, heavy from the water and colored pitch black. She ran a hand down her arm, smooth was the travel. As she went back under, the two women again poured cleansing water over her caramel skin. The Prince stopped his gawking from the doorway and started walking towards her, putting a finger to his lips to quiet the giggling women. He reached into the bath and grabbed a flower petal, he waited for the angel to come up once more and he set the petal down on the gorgeous bridge from her neck to shoulder. She gave a smile and looked up at him. The Prince gestured for the girls to leave, which they did.

"Aren't there better things to do than stare? You could have burned a hole in me."

"I would apologize, but I'm afraid it wouldn't be sincere if I did."

"You're never sincere." She said, kissing him.

"Farah, you're beautiful."

She broke the kiss and coughed. "You _must_ stop breaking the kiss; you do it all the time." The Prince complained, with a forced high-pitched voice.

"Then _you _must stop talking while kissing." She spoke between coughs. He grinned and pulled back a piece of her hair, putting his nose to it and smelling the aroma slowly. She pushed his face away playfully, as she laughed. This was the reason the Prince loved his Farah to the Heavens, which reminded him of the food, her spiciness and sweetness at the same time.

That night, a party was held in the Courts in celebration of the Prince's long deserved reign, and for the mourning of his father and brother, because neither funeral could be held since then because of unknown reasons. Women and men conversed with wine in their cups and joy in their hearts. The little boys played outside, sword fights with sticks and dice games, and the girls giggled to each other as they whispered about the immaturities but the strange allure of the boys, who picked their noses and chased after each other with rocks and indistinct shouts of violence.

The Prince stood on a pedestal, hearing critical praise from all of the palace's guests. There was a smile that couldn't be removed from his face that night, and every time he glanced over at Farah, who cradled their tiny child, his smile nearly turned to joyous tears. Her red skirt flowed beautifully from her long legs, and her shirt was where the baby lay, asleep.

"I rather enjoy this." A voice called out. And it disturbed the Prince visibly, but he dismissed it and addressed his people. It was time to have fun.

A little girl came running into the Court, before the party could really begin. She was crying and hysterical. She said that a troupe of men had stormed the unattended gates, and many of the children were slaughtered, and the girl's taken for unholy things. After the guards gathered to inspect outside, an arrow soared through the sky and hit the little girl in her back, she gasped and fell to her knees, and was caught by a nearby elderly woman before she hit the ground completely. Panic ensued, and the guards stormed outside, tears in their eyes for the children. The regular citizens, the Prince and his bride all stood, confused, heartbroken, and waiting as screams rolled from outside. The guards were all being slaughtered. "Farah, take Sana and go with the citizens!" the Prince shouted, as he ran to the barracks. He went and grabbed a sword and armor, preparing for battle. He was unaware that Farah had followed him until he heard the patter of bare feet on the ground. He turned back his head to protest, but he knew it was no use, with Farah of all people. Farah went to a trusted friend, and handed her Sana. "Take care of him, especially if anything happens." The entrusted women agreed through choking tears. Farah ran upstairs to get her bow and arrows, and the Prince reluctantly waited for her. Farah came from downstairs and they both gave a look to each other, a look of sorrow. Farah grew close to the Prince and put her forehead to his. She opened her mouth to speak but the Prince left the embrace before that, deeply hurting her. He did it unintentionally, but it had all the effect in the world. The Prince ran to the colossal door to exit, before a flaming boulder came heaving at them. The Prince yelled and tried to run away, Farah called for him and every citizen was screaming and shoving to get out of there. Soon, the boulder struck and all went quiet. Everything was a flashing light of white. As if Heaven opened its doors graciously.

Fire and burning trees and bushes surrounded the room. Bodies were strewn every which way, hanging from the balconies, drooping over the stair walls with viscera hanging out, flat on the floor and some even covering their friends and family, in an attempt to save their lives. But it was in vain. The Prince awoke, his body flung against a wall, he tried to move but he felt a sharp pain in every part of his upper body, as if daggers were inserted and twisted to the point of no return. When he felt the power to move, he stumbled around the Court looking for Farah and Sana, falling every few feet. The woman who was entrusted with keeping Sana safe had a sword lodged in her throat, and the blood seeped and flowed all the way across the floor to Farah's unconscious body, whose already red outfit was illuminated and damp.

Sana was gone.

"Are we going after them?" The familiar voice echoed from underneath the abyss of secrets.

"I thought you were gone." The Prince muttered, trying to hold back his winces of pain and his tears with a grimaced face.

"Maybe if you weren't such a depressing attention-seeker who has the worst kind of babyish angst, I wouldn't _need _to be here."


	2. The Melancholy Waterfall

Chapter 2 "The Melancholy Waterfall"

The Prince knelt for a brief moment on the long, red carpet, catching his breath. He held his stomach which ached and churned. Gasping for air, he closed his eyes, avoiding the dismal scene that surrounded him. Tears started to well in his eyes, the iris' in them illuminating. The taste of iron engulfed his tongue and he spit to the side of him, then he retracted his head slowly. He coughed a few more times and then stood. There was a look of grim anguish on his face. Fighting back his buried sorrow, he staggered over to Farah, who was still unconscious. "Oh, Farah…what has happened?" He rhetorically asked. "What has happened?" Cupping her head in his arm, he drew his face close to hers, and he released his pain. The melancholy waterfall flowed like a river of time, flowing swift and sure in one direction. Farah's forehead and cheek were being sprinkled upon and she stirred, groaning and trying to open her eyes. A gasp escaped the Prince's clenched teeth, followed by impatient breathing. He put his hand under her chin and brought her face into full view; she lived but still lay asleep. Distant talking startled the Prince, who immediately figured it was hostile. He gently put Farah's head down and started running towards the back of the Palace, the two men saw the Prince and ran after him. His run was impaired by his acute injuries, but the two men were slow in their pursuit. One was tall but stocky, he had a scar going down his arm in the shape of a chain, and teeth rotted to the core. He wore a tattered red garment around his torso and white pants that if worn by someone of better stature and virtue, they would have been fashionable. The other one was just as tall, around 5'10, but he was lean and lanky. He also wore this strange attire. They both drew their swords, and as the Prince closed a door behind them and locked it, they stabbed their swords through it repeatedly. He ran to a gigantic wall that housed the Dagger of Time on a crystal mantle. He held it in his hand for the first time in years. He weighted it in his hand, the memories, the love, the struggle. All that he had fought for, yearned for, was gone. His beard was now soaked in tears, so much it could have been wrung like the rag. He ran to the door, he pressed up against it, and feeling no resistance, he bashed it open. He charged towards the men, trying to freeze them, but the dagger had no sand. Once he got close to the lean one, he slid on his knees and struck the man through the abdomen with the dagger, and then he horizontally slashed him across the ribs. He kicked off against the other man's leg, injuring it, and it catapulted him towards his fallen shield. He turned and deflected a shot from the man; he then drove the edge of the shield into the stocky man's throat. The man fell dead. Gasping, the Prince rested until a hand came and threw him across the Court floor, he grunted and his breath was knocked out of him as he hit the floor. Before the Prince got a good look at the colossus, the beast had fallen dead. The Prince scrambled his eyes around, to see Farah, lowering her bow.

"She's useful for something after all." The mysterious voice muttered, "I think I'm starting to like this girl."


	3. Shattering Wind

**A/N R&R**

**Mistakes have been fixed**

Chapter 3 "Shattering Wind"

"The best of us eventually fail. I'm nearly spiraling into what I once was, was I what before Farah came back to me, what I was before my son, what I always feared would stare back at me if I looked into a mirror. I feel so frail lying on this floor, with Farah's amber eyes observing me, wondering if I'm okay. A fallen king in the middle of his fallen kingdom isn't the title many aspire for. It's like I'm sailing on a massive ship and out of nowhere, the shattering wind tears through the bow, rips the wooden boards out of their homes like kidnappers in the night, and sends me plummeting into shivering waters. And then, just like days of old, I'm despondent."

"Are you done wallowing in your thoughts yet? The poor girl's called your name at least ten times." A chilling, distant voice taunted. "Plus I find it disturbing when you talk to yourself, overwhelming pride doesn't always have to lead to insanity, you know."

"And I hate when I become despondent, because every time I do, _this_ comes back."

"…Now I'm offended." It sighed.

Farah ran to the Prince, letting down her bow. She took his head in her arms like he had earlier done her. She cradled him, gently tapping his cheeks with the back of her hand to revive him, not knowing he was conscious. That made him feel so inadequate, but it was Farah so he submitted.

"This is what I've loved about Farah for the longest, her-"

"Shut…up."

"Can you leave me alone? Can you?"

"I've got things planned, Prince. I can't leave, I won't."

Before the Prince was able to ask what things, a frantic Farah shook him out of his thoughts. He gasped, as if he had just come up from minutes underwater, Farah had saved him from his despondency, his drowning. Farah was relieved to see him jerk up. He was all right.

Farah helped him to his feet; she was stronger than she looked. "We've wasted enough time already, hurry up. They could come back."

The Prince and Farah searched the grounds, looking for survivors. Children sprawled out in the gardens, limp and tragic. Men and women lay as still as an old tree and the survivors crawled around with missing limbs and shattered bones. They weren't going to make it for long. Farah had to jog past the children- that was the sight that nearly brought her to tears. The Prince walked slowly through the wreckage of his kingdom, his fallen empire. How any force could have torn through it that quickly brought him to anger's gate. Farah noticed this and put her hand on his shoulder as they walked.

Houses burnt to the ground, every single one of them still in flames. Merchant goods were ransacked, and many others of less value were destroyed for no reason. The ships that had sailed in earlier were at the bottom of the sea, and the ones still standing were also ransacked and set ablaze. The force had come by boat. Persian flags covered the ground, intentional sword rips slicing through them. The outside of the horse stables were riddled with arrows, evidence enough that the Prince and Farah concluded not to investigate that further. Screams echoed in the night, making the Prince cringe at every cry to God. The voice in his head was quiet for the time being, he felt it wrong to bother the Prince at such a time, though he felt they were wasting said time.

He finally felt the need to speak. "The enemy gets farther away as we walk, Prince." He said, in the most gentle, sincere tone he could.

"I know…I know."

Time had gone by, and The Prince would look over at Farah every now and again, the air was awkward as he didn't know whether to hug her or keep searching. Farah, relieving the Prince, turned to him and hugged him tight; his breath became heavier and he did the same. He buried his head in her black, long hair that flowed down her shoulders instead of the usual ponytail, as she buried herself in his armor.

"How do you think Sana's doing?"

He knew that Sana was most likely scared and crying, but the world be cursed if he told her this. "He's okay, Farah, you know that. He's strong, like us."

"Even we can only be strong for so long. Why can't you just tell me reality? He's scared, He's alone, hungry, and we may never see him again. My question should have just been rhetorical if you were just going to lie."

"I figured you would want solace."

"All I want right now is this hug." And she hugged him tighter, his wounds pressing but he didn't let Farah notice.

"We've survived so much, we'll survive this."

"Who does something like this? Who would steal a child? What do they want? If they wanted us, they would have killed us."

"Save your breath, love. Don't worry."

"'I'll worry if I want to."

They hugged for a few more moments, standing by the light of fire. The Prince retracted himself and Farah pulled tighter, shaking her head. "Don't leave yet, please." She softly said, and the Prince once again submitted."

There comforting was interrupted by a man wailing next to them, he must have just awoken because his injuries were coming at him straightforward.

The Prince ran to the man, waiting for him to say something. Farah was close behind.

The man spoke in panic, as panic was the trend of the night. "They…they came like ghosts, like ghosts!"

"Who were they? Where did they come from?"

"They said they came from Razgod, the Country of The Sea."


	4. A Home of Ashes and Blood

Chapter 4 "A Home of Ashes and Blood"

The Prince grew a confused look on his face, he looked back to Farah, who had no answer, and he looked back. The elderly man was sweating out his heart, and his eyes were nearly in the back of his head. His beard was covered in it, as if someone took a handful and sprinkled it on there. The man seemed to mutter to himself, his incoherent speech made him appear beside himself. Farah paced back and forth, her arms folded together and her charcoal hair frayed upon her neck and ears.

"Hey, hey snap out of it! Answer, who are 'they'? What's Razgod?"

The man gave no response as he shook his head back and forth. If observed professionally, a Psychologist might deem him mad, and a man of the cloth would deem him possessed.

"What's Razgod?" The Prince repeated with a voice more stern.

The man flickered his eyes to the Prince. He gripped the Prince's neck with frail fingers, "The Country of the Sea", he whispered, before coughing again.

"We have no more time, ask him where this place may be." Farah interrupted, standing in one spot now, rubbing her neck in impatience."

"Please, old man, where…is...Razgod? And what is it?"

"Razgod…lays…sea." The last question remained in the dark.

The Prince grew tired of the cryptic words, he felt the urge to leave the man there on the crumbled steps but he felt a sense of duty that he must save his citizen, and he felt the man was not in control of his mind. But the man had a different idea entirely.

He beseeched the Prince, grabbing him before he could pull himself up. "My Prince, please…put me out of this misery, slit my throat."

"What?" He asked, knowing what the question was, but he, again, felt that the man was not in control, but the pain was.

The old man gave no repeat; all he did was lay back on the steps, broken and sharp below him. He pulled down the collar on his shirt and lifted his head, exposing his neck. The Prince looked on in bewilderment; at first ignoring the request had Farah not given him a look of _turn back_. The Prince waited a while, weighing the predicament. The man attempted to hand the Prince a jagged knife with a shaky hand, but it fell flat to the ground. Picking the knife up for him, the Prince swiftly put the knife to the elder's throat, then stopping and looking into the man's eyes, which begged for the following events. Farah had walked away, scouting the local area for a more useful survivor or more mysterious enemies. A ship in the distance had succumbed to the flames encompassing it and it drifted to the black of the water. It made such a loud noise that Farah hadn't heard the quick, sympathetic slicing of skin. The Prince was undetected as he came from behind her, she jumped as he came.

"We must go." He blandly said.

"Let's."

The Prince dropped the bloody knife, walking past Farah and looking to the waterfront. Pointing out to one the farthest, he suggested one that wasn't already sunken or on fire. Farah stood still as the Prince moved on. She couldn't bring herself to step foot anywhere off of her home, especially knowing she could not return. How could she return to a home of ashes and blood? Her belongings rested in her bedroom, the only building not burned to the ground. She had half a mind to run back for them. She crossed her arms again and distanced herself from the world, just like that. She turned her head back as if she was shocked by the arrival of a knight in shining armor, looking to her room, as it was the tallest building in the Palace, the second being the Courts right outside. She gasped and pulled her hand back as the Prince grabbed it, he was hurt by her action but he understood her anxiety.

"We must go." He repeated.

Farah only nodded her head in, but hesitant, acceptance.

On the ship, The Prince unhooked the rope that tied it to the wooden harbor post. He then turned the wheel towards the ocean, an ocean murky with ash and the bodies of merchants and children who once skipped rocks. Farah sat on the floor, absentmindedly fiddling with her bow, and the Prince glared out to his kingdom, fallen and fragile. Nothing was accomplished with the interrogation, and that angered him. Almost to the point of losing all control.

**A/N The story will have more action in the following chapters, and a much more personal journey that may even change the story to a M-Rated, Angst/Romance story, but not losing its sense of adventure, I just can't click on three genres. And also this chapter would have been longer, I just wanted to make this short to update quickly, but following chapters will be longer, so don't worry. Are you ready for a war against mystery? I sure am. To war!**


	5. Innate

**R&R, cool cats.**

Chapter 5 "Innate"

It had been hours on the ship, drifting along the waves of the sea. The two had broken open a few crates of food and made a fire, cooking what little food was available. Farah was quick to fall asleep, curled up and off to the corner of the ship. To her, it was good to sleep so she didn't have to think. The Prince had watched her sleep, noting every murmur, groan, and even twitch of her eye. He had a smile on his face, a smile he didn't even notice he had. It was late in the night but it was hard to decipher the exact time, maybe it was even morning. The clouds above were good at keeping secrets. He grunted as he got up, his joints stiff. He walked over to the edge of the ship and looked out, it amazed him that he could still see his kingdom, but it might as well been a long lost memory, forgotten but always in the back of his mind. He changed his view to the water below, now smooth and black under the comforting moon. The moon itself was a wonder that he wanted to lose his thoughts in, he wanted to reach it, touch it.

Farah flinched up, sweat dripping from her brow. She searched frantically for her bow, sighing deeply when she felt it beside her.

"What's the matter?" Her husband asked, walking towards her.

She put her head in her hands and shook her head tediously. "Everything is the matter."

The Prince gave no answer as he sighed, sitting down beside her.

"Today was supposed to be a day of celebration. But instead it became a night of terror…and confusion."

The Prince brought his knees to his chin, he tried to look at her but the night was the darkest it would be, which meant that dawn was approaching.

"I'm sorry; this was supposed to be your day. And now it's all gone to Hell."

"No one can have everything forever, Farah."

"I don't want to believe that."

The Prince shifted to a more comfortable position, the dagger poking him in the thigh. He pulled it from its sheath and he looked at him, forgetting he ever grabbed it. Farah brushed back her hair as she abruptly stood, staring at the Prince as if he had done something abysmal. Splinters from the floor of the boat stuck into her feet, little pricks of blood staining the edges of the wood splinters, but she didn't care. The Prince at first didn't notice her action, as he twirled the handle of the dagger in his two hands, occasionally tapping his index finger on the tip, testing the sharpness, the dagger never seemed to dull, it never seemed to scuff, or to chip.

"You brought the dagger?" Farah asked after a moment of silence except for the contact of the calm ocean waves to the gigantic, wooden, tattered barge.

"Yes, why?" The Prince asked, in honest confusion.

"You brought the dagger and you haven't rewound any of this?" She snapped, folding her arms.

"It's empty." The Prince answered, calmly.

Farah looked puzzled. "Then where's the sand?"

"It's all gone, used for skirmishes."

"Well, could you request more?"

The Prince chuckled. "I haven't had contact with the other empires since they delivered the dagger and sand as-"

"Yes, yes I know, 'welcoming gifts'. I was there, remember?"

"Of course."

Farah thought for a minute, and then she unfolded her arms and sat back down, as if embarrassed. She grabbed her ankle and took off a silk anklet that was around it, and then she wrapped it around her hair into a ponytail. She finally noticed the tiny prick holes under her feet and she winced, picking the splinters out one by one. "Damn it." She muttered under her breath. The Prince saw her strain and he unstrapped and took off his boots, throwing them onto the deck in front of Farah.

"Put those on, they'll keep your feet safe."

Farah gave him a smile for his generosity and put them on; she tried her best to not have to get up since the shoes were twice her size.

For hours the shipped rocked and swayed in the sea, sometimes having the illusion that it would tip and sink, but never doing so. Farah's sleep was plagued with thoughts of her son, hanging from the poles of a flag, or roasting on a pyre. She imagined the boy's captures as monsters, with eyes as red as rubies and skin as black as coal. As imaginative as her mind was, she was not far off.

"Why do you always stare at her?" A voice crept from the night.

"She's beautiful." The Prince answered, not caught off guard by the random timing of the voice.

"She's sexy."

"You speak of things you don't understand."

"I understand things more than you, Prince."

"Such as?" The Prince asked, agitated.

"Such as how I find it ridiculous how you just let whomever ransack your palace and make a fool out of you, and steal your child…"

"Why are you here?"

"…That child was a _worthy_ heir…"

"Why are you here?" The Prince yelled out, not meaning for it to be out of the confines of his mind, he hoped he hadn't woken Farah.

"You left me. You left me in the dark! To scream and shout, to lament and to rage!"

"Your meaning?"

"I'm back because you always had that innate anger in you, Prince, ever since the Dahaka made you a coward. I've always been your other-half, stronger, faster, smarter. I've always been you. And you left me, alone, when I asked you not to."

"You pleaded."

"I…_asked_. But now that I've found my way home, there's no way I'm letting you off of your leash this time."

"You think you control me?"

"I am you, for the last time. I control whatever I want."

The Prince hit his forehead with the side of his fist, breathing uneasily.

"How did it feel, to be with Farah, twice?"

"I would imagine you already know."

"But not to the degree I would like…"

"Bastard."

"Come on, don't talk of yourself that way, that only lowers the self-esteem. Trust me, you're a nice guy, I would know."

The ship grated against a different texture than the smooth water, the bottom of the boat's wood breaking and flipping wildly.

"What was that?"

The Prince ran over to the edge of the boat, straining his eyes to look out at the distance. "I think it's land."

Farah jumped up and grabbed her bow, aiming it into the night. When she realized nothing was wrong she ran around the ship, trying to find the Prince. He had heard her and he called her over. Following the sound of his voice, she soon noticed the land beside her.


	6. Clandestine

**R&R, You Persian Princes and Indian Princesses, you.**

Chapter 6 "Clandestine"

The land was dead, dry, forbidding. Farah was leading the way, her ambitiousness and curiosity practically lighting the way while the Prince battled with himself. He followed far behind, slowly but surely pushing the voice deeper into his mind. When his mind was free, he thought of his kingdom, how it lay alone and crumbling, lost to ruins forever. But he knew he should have been thinking of his son, of his wife. He just couldn't control his hurt pride. The light from the moon was powerful, and it lighted the way through the narrow, pebble pathway. "Well, come, on, keep up." Farah shouted back every once in a while, looking back at him, laughing at his slowness. The Prince could have ran up and walked with her, but it pleased him to hear her laugh and giggle, evidence that the trauma was absent from her mind for the time being, and the Prince was not used to seeing Farah as someone sad, and brooding. She was always the stubborn, determined, morally-sound person he was used to. And when she would break down her wall of clandestine, he would get a glimpse of the girl behind the woman, and that's what he fell in love with.

Farah approached a long, short wall of rocks and she climbed on top, turning back to her lover. The Prince didn't want to keep her waiting so he picked up his pace and arrived at the rocks, reaching out for Farah's extended hand. It was surprising how well she could lift him up, but she was quite athletic. She ran up ahead when the Prince steadied himself. A gray, brick wall faced them with poise. The Prince walked side-by-side with Farah this time, both growing tired of the long walk. He started to limp, his bare feet bleeding from the jagged pebbles and rocks. He pained but he felt Farah needed the boots more than he did. Farah's face was calculating but not deviously, she was trying to find a way past the wall, which housed no entrance visible to them. Farah scanned the wall, brushing her hands on the wall, up, down, side-to-side, trying to find anything. The Prince laughed at her.

"You think you're going to find some magic door or something?"

Farah rolled her eyes as she continued to survey the decrepit fort-esque wall. "I think I found a crack." She muttered, her hands slipping into a fault. The Prince peered through, and that's all he did, since he couldn't slip through the crack when he tried.

"Ah, I'm stuck." He sighed, grunting as he tried to push himself from his entrapment. His hands slid against the wall and his wrists scrapped. He winced, pulling back his hands quickly.

"Let me do it." Farah laughed, grabbing him from under both of his arms and pulling. After four tugs, the Prince budged out, nearly toppling over on Farah. He struggled to rise himself, but it was done nonetheless. "I'll show you how it's done, Prince." She told him, before disappearing. The Prince was dumbfounded, looking around for her, his back was turned when she slipped through the wall.

"Where are you?"

"Over here!" She yelled, from behind the wall.

It all felt too familiar, how they were separated once again. Just like years ago, memories that were buried beneath the sands of time and numerous bottles of mead, a slave to the drink of honey and spices until troubles were banished from the kingdom.

"And how am I to get to you?"

"According to your stories, there was always conveniently a lever, correct?" She ribbed.

"There's no lever here."

The Prince could hear an annoyed sigh of exasperation from beyond the wall of physical and mental separation. "I'll find something."

"I'm sure you shall."

"While I'm looking, try to find another way in."

"As you wish, Farah." He replied, complying with her order. He proceeded to do so, but then he stopped and raised his voice. "Better yet, you could just stay there and I simply find a way in!"

"That's a good idea!"

"I'm going to need the boots for that!"

Before the Prince could blink an eye, the two boots flew over the wall, first like birds in the sky then like boulders underwater. The Prince coughed as he grabbed them, the wind knocked out of him. He put on the boots and started searching.

"We finally get alone time."

"Could you leave me alone for just an hour?"

"Don't you enjoy my company? I was beginning to enjoy yours…"

"What I enjoy is your silence."

"I enjoy sadism, bloodbaths, fires, and long walks on the beach."

The Prince didn't find the need to respond to that, so he didn't. He searched briefly for an entrance, and he found one: a tree. The timing was shorter than he expected and it pleased him. He climbed the decaying tree, which would have been with ease had his feet not ached. The wall didn't reach the exact top of the tree, which was some consolation, but he still had to climb a ways. Jumping was the hardest part, his chest slamming against the barrier. He grunted in pain and rested there a while, catching his breath. Moments later, he whipped around it, then lost his balance and slid to the ground below.

"Just my luck…" He groaned, getting up and dusting himself off. He raised his head and ducked behind a nearby horse carriage, hiding. Farah had her back against the wall, her arms raised in surrender. Three men with bow and arrows aimed dead at her.

**A/N- A short chapter, but I KILL for your guy's reviews! KILL! Only sandmonsters though, of course.**


	7. Something's Beneath the Sand

**R&R, you guys rock for doing so.**

Chapter 7 "Something's Beneath the Sand"

The Prince stayed where he was, fighting his urge to run to them. The men all stood in a line. They're battle-worn bows eager for Farah's heart as any man would be. The men's brown, weathered faces were drawn by a pencil of worry and suspicion, which the Prince found that they would do anything to protect themselves. His eyes never faltered from the scene, all while his thoughts crushed his brain. Farah stood tall and still, it was very barely noticeable that she was attempting to reach for her wooden bow, and the men's tired eyes weren't able to catch everything, like the scorpion dwindling by their feet, or the birds above that flew straight and fast.

"You tarry too long." The darkest side of the Prince warned.

"She'll die if I interfere; I have no good vantage point."

Farah wouldn't have been able to reach her bow before being pelted down, and she knew it. But her stubbornness and lack of patience made the situation all the more tense. Her feet shifted in the least, sliding from the smooth sand, and the men all twitched, pulling back their bows farther, arrows sharp as the Devil's tongue. Farah stopped trying to reach for the bow, not risking anything.

"State your name." One of the men shouted, arching his back and puffing out his chest.

"I am Farah, from the kingdom down river."

The man let down his bow, a sparkle in his dry eye. "You speak of the kingdom of the sand?"

"I speak of the very same." She answered, putting down her arms. The nervous man put back up his bow as quickly as it dropped, Farah inhaled sharply, afraid to let go of her breath. The Prince had to fight himself again to not engage in battle with the men, and it was too much. His stomach churned and pained, his legs felt wobbly and he fell to the sandy ground, some falling into his mouth. His arms grew limp and his eyes lost their shine. Something was taking over.

"If you won't fight them, I will."

"Stop…you mustn't…go away!"

"I've been trapped for too long! I won't stand idly by and let you watch her die!"

"Why…do you…even…care?" The Prince asked, his body appearing dead on the floor.

"A king is no king without a queen and an heir, and you've already lost one of the two."

"I have lost…nothing, my son is…fine…and Farah…will be fine. Are you…sure that's the only reason you wish to save her?"

The Prince's words shut the voice up for the time being, and as if the Prince was revived, he felt as good as new. It was obvious the men were on edge of what to do, but their bows stuck out like swords to an infidel. Farah's arms grew tired, but she knew if she made another sudden move she would be dead. The men started whispering to each other, they all had to lean in to hear because they were so far apart. Farah tried to observe them, but to no avail. The first man who had spoken spotted the scorpion that sat by his foot, squealing, he put his foot under the stomach, and he flipped it away, distracting the two others. The scorpion landed in dust and was nearly completely consumed by it. The men all checked their feet for stings or slashes, though it was hard to check in the dark. Farah quickly reached back for her bow, and then she tried to load an arrow into it but was soon discovered. As the men readied and aimed, the Prince could no longer hold his wait and charged forward, drawing his blade.

The man who spoke to Farah shot an arrow at the angered Prince, who drove his body onto the sand to avoid it. Nearly losing his balance and almost slipping in the sands as Farah did, he continued his charge towards the men. As a second arrow whizzed past him, he dove onto the floor again, using his sword to gash through the man's Achilles tendon, causing him to immediately fall and wail in anguish. The man became one with the sand as the Prince rose once again, to block a second warrior's pointed arrow. The crippled man grabbed the Prince's ankle, trying to hold him back, before the Prince stumbled down and stabbed the man in the chest; the sword went all the way through. Blood was almost instantaneous.

The Prince switched his sword from his right hand to his left as he twisted his knelt body to cut the taller warrior's stomach slightly, forcing the man to drop his bow and stumble back. The third warrior with no name, who was out of arrows, swung at the Prince full force with the huge bow, his adversary bent backwards to the point of it being painful and he pulled his feet up, only to extend them onto both of the man's kneecaps. The man flew face forward into the sand, it blinding his beady eyes. As the tall man came from behind the rising Prince, an arrow struck him in the already open wound, splitting it like lighting to a tree branch and the man shouted foreign profanity into the air as he fell to the ground.

The last man standing swung blindly at the Prince with a knife he had hidden in a pouch in his loincloth. The Prince ducked repeatedly until he slipped backwards onto the sand. He scrambled back as the man followed the sound of panic. A hand luckily felt the scorpion, and the lucky Prince threw it at the yelling combatant, it landed nearly half way down his throat. The rest of the man's story is history.

The Prince let his head fall into the sand, resting his tired bones. He turned his head to Farah, who was lowering her weapon in the distance. She ran to him as she had in the Palace Court, rushing to see if he was okay, though he was obviously more okay than at the Palace.

"You've saved me twice now, I owe you."

"You owe me just our son, let us find him and all will be well." She responded, tediously checking his body for wounds, she found none, save for minor scrapes and scratches. The Prince got up, with the help of Farah. He dusted himself off and looked around.

"Is there anyone else around?"

Farah looked around also, bow still gripped tight. "I don't suppose so."

Just then a door broke form from beneath the sand that flowed like a waterfall. It indeed had a magic appearance to it, like Farah had earlier predicted, but that it certainly was not magic.

The door opened and all of the sand around it drained into the pit like entrance that the Prince and Farah stood in. The two had to squint to see what was there, and the moon's vision had no mercy on them. Fifty men stood with aimed arrows from their barracks, and cavalry men rested upon their massive horses. Farah scoffed and reached for her bow once more, but the Prince stopped her, not taking his eyes of off the opposition.

"State your name and business on this land." The center man answered, from high above his fortressed walls. It was evident that he was king, though he beared neither crown nor fancy clothes.

"I am from the kingdom from across the river, the kingdom of the sand."

"We have sand as well, stranger."

"…The _magic_ sand." He shouted, still out of breath from his battle.

The king rubbed his chin, leaning on the concrete banister of the guard barrack. "Hmm…I know of you. You met our people back during the Rackshid Wars."

"Yes, a victorious battle, that was."

Farah nudged him. "No time for casual conversation."

The Prince sighed. "Why is there so much hostility and opposition towards us? We are friendly."

"We couldn't be sure, we…"

The king's voice trailed off in the distance. "What did he say?" The Prince asked.

"He said they were attacked two days ago by mysterious intruders."

The Prince's eyes widened as he peered deeper into the kingdom. The kingdom was no longer a kingdom as it lay wasted and broken.


	8. Your Most Wondrous Dreams

Chapter 8 "Your Most Wondrous Dreams"

"To think, I was not the only one, the only one to wallow in grief over a fallen kingdom, the only one to lose friends and family in a pointless raid, the only one to want revenge. As I stare at this man's bloody home, I feel nothing but contempt for the unknown."

The Prince walked through the fortress gate, his eyes gazed at the horrendous sight of slain soldiers scattered across the once green and lavish land. There was nothing but previous encased sand where once lay grass, trees limp and dead, buildings and homes now rubble on the ground. Survivors stirred underneath the sand, hands and feet poking out in the night, and those noticeable were dug up and rescued by the King's men, whose gold armor was encrusted with sand that made it hard for them to move. The stench of death was everywhere, and it was going to linger in the air forever.

Farah stayed close, holding on to the Prince so she would not slip in the sands because of her bare feet.

"Come, come up. We have much to discuss." The king of that wasteland declared, sorrow in his voice. It may have been sorrow, but it was still commanding sorrow. A few of the king's led the way, holding torches and having the Prince and Farah follow them. The stairs they climbed were crumbling underneath their feet so they hurried their pace. The king walked out of sight as they reached the top of the stairs, into the confinement of his palace.

"Stay at the entrance! Close the gates back!" The lieutenant soldier yelled down at the others as he stood by one of two levers that would seal the gates back again, isolating the enigmatic empire from the rest of the world and its dangers. Five archers and three blade-wielding soldiers ran out through the gates, followed by eight cavalrymen, their horses stumbling to get through because of the deep, deep sand. The lieutenant grunted as he pulled back the lever, and one of the other men below the broken stairs did the same, a loud, echoing creaking sound erupted from the gates, shattering the night's peacefulness. A stream of sand flowed from the gates' crevices and some had to shield themselves from the heavy weight of it. Once the gated door was closed, the men grouped up the survivors of day three. They had now survived three days, but rejuvenation of the people and of the land would take time.

The Prince stopped and he let Farah walk through the door first, she thanked him with a kiss on the cheek.

"Not much longer now, the king awaits you in his quarters."

"Thank you, sir." The Prince said, graciously.

"Oh and uh, watch out for unstable fixtures and such, this place is crumbling to dust every day."

King Bermudez's quarter was still as elegant as it could ever be. Tiny waterfalls led from the river to the private baths by small canals. Shelves of books stood tall in each corner of the room, books of war and how to win it, books of power and how to achieve it. Books the Prince would have read for days on end if belonged to him. Food and drink lay out on black and yellow carpet on the floor. Apples, pears, peaches, oranges, bananas, even the most exotic grapes imported from distant lands. The King stood by the balcony door, scrolling through his variety of books with the edge of his index finger. He turned when he heard the two guests enter.

"Welcome, welcome, my friends." He greeted, folding his hands behind his back. "It's been a long time."

"Maybe it was a bad time for a visit." The Prince sighed.

"Not at all, it's not like you _knew_ where you were to begin with; Rackshid was in foreign lands if you remember. You've never seen my home."

"I do remember, but I wish I did not."

"Hmm, don't we all? Oh, your beautiful wife, is this?" The king asked, watching Farah as she awed at the rows and rows of books.

"You have so many books, but are they all of war?"

King Bermudez laughed, so hard it hurt his sides. "Are all us men such savages that women think all we know is war? I have books of Gods, of kingdoms you haven't even heard of, of love, and of marriage. Even the most vicious warriors can be the most dedicated paramours, dear Farah."

"How do you know my name? We have not met."

"Ah, as we have not, but the Prince here always spoke of you with the most sincere of hearts, one time he made my ears bleed." The king joked, patting the Prince on the shoulder. He walked over to Farah and extended his hand. "It is nice to be of your acquaintance."

"As it is, to be of yours." She said, shaking his hand. His grip was sort of loose, for he didn't want to hurt her hand, but her grip astounded him so that he had no choice but to tighten it.

The Prince scouted out the food that lay on the floor. The King approached him and picked up a piece of pomegranate, and taking a bite, the red juice of it covering his brown beard. "Would you care for some?"

The Prince grimaced, but declined politely. "I was never one for pomegranate." He answered, looking at the mess the pomegranate made on the king's face. Wiping the fruit away from his mouth and beard with a napkin, the king turned his attentions back to Farah, who was still observing the books.

"Would you like for my men to accompany you to the studies? More books await you there, if you please."

Farah smiled, but felt it inappropriate to do so under the circumstances, so she tried to conceal it.

"Oh no, smile, smile dear Farah! I have smiled myself tonight, as you have seen. If you can't laugh about tragedy, then you must cry about it. And I would rather smile, wouldn't you?"

"I would." She answered, her pearly white teeth showing.

"There's that pretty smile. Now go, right outside those doors over there my men are waiting, tell them where you want to go and tell them I said it's all right." He told her, pointing to the smooth, dark brown, wooden doors at the far end of the room. She said goodbye to the Prince and she left.

King Bermudez approached the Prince, a palpable look of mourning on his face. "I am terribly sorry, Prince."

"Why?"

"For your kingdom, I am confident I can say I know what you're going through."

The Prince gave no answer; instead he slowly spun a red apple in his hand, deciding if it was good enough to eat.

"They came so fast." The King went on. "And so deadly, I didn't even see them. Many of my men, dead, the ships by the docks were set ablaze and were raided, the women and children that weren't hidden were taken, most likely for slavery, and the men were dismembered, maimed, tortured until their deaths." He rambled. Tears brimmed on the horizons of his eyes. "If you didn't experience the same thing I did, I would say you would have no idea what it looked like, all the sand that was used for decoration pulled down by ropes and drowning your citizens like a tsunami in the Courtyard. Torches put to houses not made of stone, and houses that were made of stone were blown away by some sort of magic, magic fire sticks, I don't know."

"Can you tell me what is going on?"

"My…my son is missing. They…they took him, but they left my daughter…why? And you know Garrad's kingdom? William's kingdom…and Adriant's? All fallen, and the kingdom's mentioned that had sons have them now gone missing.

The Prince lowered his head.

"Your son is missing…"

"Yes."

The king nodded his head to himself, walking up to the balcony, the Prince, after a few moments, followed. The king looked out to the servants and soldiers, rebuilding what little of the empire that they could.

"This is what it's come to, servants and warriors, peasants and nobles, all working together to reconstruct their home. I must say this is a strange turn of events."

"At least it shows the true nature of your people."

"What?"

"My father-my father always used to say that only in the worst of times do people show you their true nature, and your people stick together during the worst of times, that means you're a great leader."

The king chuckled. "Thank you."

"Do you know who's doing this? And why?"

"You left early during the Rackshid War, Prince, after you pulled your soldiers out, Garrad's kingdom pulled out as well, and soon after: Adriant's. Only William, I, and Razgod's kingdom stood against the Europeans in Rackshid."

"I heard news of your victory not far after, but I had only heard that you and William's kingdom returned, who is Razgod?"

"A secret kingdom that came from farther East, it was once a friendly kingdom that would help us in times of need with its profound and excellent military service. It was even better than yours, Prince."

"They are not 'friendly' anymore?"

"When you, Adriant, and Garrad all left for different reasons, William and I couldn't handle the endless army of the Europeans, they came and came and came, so we called on Razgod's help, since he was once an old friend of mine. With their help, we crushed the Europeans with ease and gained Rackshid territory. But Razgod felt we didn't acknowledge the extended use of their resources when we declared victory, and they fell back under the map."

"Now Razgod, feeling obscured…wants to take what's his?"

"This is what I've concluded, he's stealing and murdering all of our heirs, so once they come back and kill us, there will be no one to take over our throne and our empires would gradually become nothing but the sand outside my walls."

"Why not just kill our heirs and us at one time?"

"Razgod never was one to make things simple."

"This is disturbing news."

"That is not all; you do not know the reason for Razgod's empire's constant success in the history of their wars. They have the magic of water, able to twist it, bend it, anything their heart desires."

"Like the Djinn."

"Exactly like the Djinn, they gave Razgod their powers as thanks for helping them with something, I do not know it, but he has been using that power to his advantage since the beginning of his empire. When they came here-do you remember when I told you of my wife, and her death years ago?"

"Yes."

"Someone…something, took the form of my wife, I was in awe, I was hypnotized, she asked for the key to my city, and I gave it to her." The king paused for a moment. "Then she left, and I waited for her, and she came back moments later. When I…when I went to kiss her, she dissolved into water. And then I heard shouting and screaming, I went to look down from this balcony right here, and I saw what had been done."

"So-"

"No, listen. You must be careful in whatever you're planning, because I _know_ you're planning something. I think Razgod is using some sort of power I have never witnessed from him before now, he can manipulate the water to take shape and form into anything that is in the darkest corners of your mind and the deepest things rooted in your heart, the ingredients your most wondrous dreams are made of."

**A/N-R&R**


	9. Haunted

Chapter 9 "Haunted"

"As I listen to the king's words, I can only wonder of the horror in the other kingdoms, only imagine the wasteland that awaited there. Bermudez's men and women lay under sand and blood, their souls shadowed by the black cloak of death, death that carried them away. How Bermudez is able to stay strong dumbfounds me, why hasn't he given up all hope yet? But I can see that behind the shroud of bravado, lies despair, and if I was to pull up that veil from his face, I would see a crying man, wrinkles flooded with overflowing tears. His story made me angry, why because of his mistake am I dragged into this? How do I get myself into these situations?"

The king leisurely walked around his throne room, chewing on the apple that the Prince had chosen not to eat. His steps seemed forced, obligatory. It was clear it was hard for him to even get out of the bed in the morning.

Even his eating of the apple was enforced, as if he was acting for the sake of the stage. All he wished to do was lay on the floor for the rest of his life, but he knew that wasn't the requirements of an honorable and proud king. The Prince pondered the king's words. He leaned on the wall, that even through the invasion, stood strong.

"I know you feel anger over this, as this was not your problem to deal with, but as said before, Razgod never was one to do things the simple way." Bermudez walked over to the Prince and put his hand on his shoulder, rubbing it with friendly tenderness. "But you and I have an understanding; we are friends under the rule of the crown, no?"

"And what rule may that be?"

"That we stick together. Garrad once told me in the Rashid deserts, after he told me about the first time his kingdom was invaded, but the invasion failed. He said 'We…are not pirates, nor captains of a ship. We do not go down with our ship, but we do not watch it sink either." The king started, pointing his finger at the Prince's face, who was watching intently. "'We get revenge on whoever removed our anchor, and then we pull our ship up from the murky depths, we rebuild our kingdom.'"

The Prince slowly nodded his head, slowly understanding the speech.

"I never forgot those words, and I never will." King Bermudez finished, throwing his apple core to the clean, spotless, marble floor.

Farah slept in the study room chair, a book lay on her lap, open to the last page and nearly sliding off of her lap. It was evident she was having a bad dream, for she tossed and turned in the ancient chair, it creaked under her. The book ultimately fell, a heavy thud hitting the floor, the book closing. Farah's neck was sweating, dampening the area on the chair where her head rested. Her nails dug into her thighs, her eyes squinted tight and her groans were chilling. She brought her knees up to her chin, arms wrapped around her shins, as if she was huddled up in a corner of a room, hiding. A spectator might think that she was mad, a wild woman belonging to a sanctuary for the mentally ill, or that she had deep internal pains, like she was dying slowly, painfully, from the inside out.

_Farah ran in the vast gardens, chasing a bird that wanted nothing but to be free. She envied the bird, she loathed it because it could fly away and back again and she could not. She laughed and laughed, jumping up to grab it and tumbling down when she missed it by inches. She loved the feel of the grass on her feet, it pricking her soles. She loved the sun upon her face, and just simply the joy of the day. Her brother, Kalim, had called her in for supper many times but she pretended not to hear. Being eleven was joyous, free, and she never wanted that day to end. _

_Soon, Farah grew tired and so she rested by a hearty tree. The bird would soon fly away and Farah would contemplate her world as it was, a princess of a kingdom. Farah dozed off as she heard Kalim scream her name; she jumped at the abruptness of it. _

_She peered from behind the tree, which was slowly dying above her without her notice. Kalim had tears streaming from his face; his mouth was open screaming something indistinct and panicked-the words of an unknown warning running together into incoherent speech. _

"_What? What is it, Kalim?" She asked, hearing no clear answer. The blue sky above was gray at the drop of a hat, and rain fell. The world was under attack. Kalim was tackled to the ground, warriors in masks dragging him away, his nails clawing at the grass. Farah gasped and ran after her brother, who was being kidnapped, taken from his peaceful land, well…once peaceful land. Arrows fired her way, where they originated from was an investigation, for the smoke coming from the palace shrouded everything in front of her._

_As the crying Kalim disappeared into said smoke, Farah squealed and ducked from the oncoming arrows. She covered her head with her arms, her face hidden beneath her, tears welling up in her eyes. Her improvised protection was shattered as her arms were grabbed by the mysterious men, leading her away, coldly letting her drag on the floor. _

"_Please, please, stop this madness, release me!" She begged, her pleas falling on deaf ears. She tried to pull her skinny arms away. She tried to kick her leg. She was a fish out of water, flailing around and about. She prayed to the Heavens aloud, hoping the men would hear and care, but yet again, her hopes were burned along with the kingdom. "Please…please…" Were her last words before she fainted into oblivion._

Farah's eyes broke open like a rubber band too small for what it was wrapped around. Her sobs were broken by gasps caught in her throat, a hot feeling in her chest, maybe her heart was melting. Maybe her blood was overheating it. She held her head in her hands, hysterically sobbing, and her breath erratic and uneven. One of Bermudez's remaining servants had heard her lamenting and he ran to her, trying to comfort her.

"Sana! Where's Sana?"

"Who-who is Sana, miss?"

"Sana, oh please, Sana!"

A soldier had also heard the commotion and had arrived a bit later, the servant told him to go get the Prince, moments later the Prince ran in, King Bermudez not far behind. He ran to her and instantly embraced her in a hug, rubbing her hair and shushing her.

"Oh Prince," She sighed. "Sana…Sana."

"Sana is okay, he is okay, Farah, hush, it is okay now, it's okay."

Farah lay on the guest bed, looking out of the balcony a few feet away at the people outside. The Prince stood in the doorway, looking at his wife. She was beautiful even with her frayed hair and worried face. His sword and dagger lay on the floor by the bed, and he felt naked and unprotected. He never really liked to travel anywhere without his protection on his person, but there, with Farah, he felt as safe as could be. The sun came up, and Farah squinted her eyes from it.

The Prince brushed his hair from his eyes as he walked towards her. He was surprised to find her gripping her bow fairly tight from under the white sheets. She distanced herself a bit when he put his hand on her shoulder. The Prince sighed, not knowing where to begin. Lucky for him, Farah gave him a prompt.

"I had a dream, it was a terrible dream…it made me think." She turned her head to him, a look of imploring on her face, and the Prince wondered what she was imploring for. "I want our son back."

"I know."

"Do you? We sit here in leisure, while our son is miles and miles away. When do you suppose we leave? When we get his head back on a plate?"

"We will get him back, I promise you."

Farah turned her attention back to the sunrise. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Do you want to talk a walk? Get away from all of this?"

"Ye-yes. Yes, I would love that."

"Okay."

The Prince walked out of the room, grabbing his weapons and strapping them on him, he went to find the king, who was in the study talking to the two who found Farah. He asked the king if he could take Farah back down to the river, who, of course, said was all right.

Farah ran her hand through the water; ripples formed trailing her fingers, looking like the slash of a bear's claw. The Prince threw nearby rocks into the water, like the children at his kingdom had did not even two days ago. He crouched down, flicking the smallest pebbles into the water, seeing how far they could go.

Farah soon came and sat by him, putting her feet into the cool water, it came up to her shins. "Put your feet in, as well, it feels good." She told him, pointing to his boots.

He obliged, grunting as he changed positions, slipping off his boots and throwing them to the upper ground. He winced as he put his feet in.

"It's cold."

"It's cool, not cold."

He rolled his eyes, "Only to you."

Farah didn't notice the sharpness of her earlier words until she mused them over. "I…am sorry, for saying what I did, back in the palace."

"It is all right."

"No, you say that but I hear the hurt in your voice, it's just that…I hurt as well, it never has been a smooth ride with you, and I love that so much, you're the best thing in my life, but not the only thing, the other person I have is within the hands of monsters, monsters I don't even know the name of."

"What was your dream of?"

"Just seeing things through Sana's eyes, I suppose."

"We will get revenge; I won't let our ship sink."

"What ship, what are you talking about?"

"Uh…nothing."

She began to kick her feet back and forth in the water, the coolness and the morning breeze in the air was perfection. "Everything is war with you, but I understand, it runs in your blood."

"I did not ask for this, Farah."

"But you're eager to run into it, into the danger."

"'Run into the danger'? I'm running into the danger for _you_, for Sana! _You're_ the one who's rushing me; I would be in the palace now developing a more elaborate plan if you hadn't spurned me!"

"So my words _did_ hurt you after all."

There was no answer, only the creaking of their shore-lined ship that crabs and birds now infested.

"I want my honor back, my kingdom. Razgod took that from me, and I'll kill him happily."

"Razgod…that old man back at the kingdom spoke of that word, what is it?"

"I'll tell you later."

"Wait…is that all you care about, the honor and the glory?"

"You know that's not true."

Farah stood up, turning to him. "That's what it sounded like."

"I just said I'm running into danger for the both of you. _That_ sounded like it was for you two."

"You make us sound like such a bother." She sighed, running away.

"Wait!" The Prince yelled, running up to grab his boots and put them on, and taking off after her. When he reached her, she was slipping through a narrow crack in a wall similar to the one by Bermudez's kingdom walls.

"Farah!" The Prince yelled, running at the stone wall. He watched her run into the distance as he called for her.

"Smooth move." The voice from the darkness sighed out. "Now I suppose you want us to go retrieve her."

The Prince punched the wall, his knuckles' skin splitting and blood running from it. He fell to his knees and started hitting his head against the stony ground. He screamed into the dust.

A group of men came walking towards the area, mead in their hands and swords, as well. They were most likely pirates or scavengers that were coming ashore from looting the Prince's merchant ship, all they found was food and drink.

"Look here, a crazy man…with some nice weapons." The drunk slurred. "We don't like crazy men, do we, boys?"

"No, sir, sure don't." The others announced, their words jumbled, agreeing with the original speaker.

Knowing they were there to cause trouble, and as the Prince had no time for it, his frustrations went from wailing to the bugs in the ground to inner hatred. He started to lose control of his body, his knees and arms going limp, his head throbbed and all was black through his vision for moments. He raised his head, scowling, his eyes a scorching yellow.

**R&R or the Dark Prince will come for ya. He'll taunt you, make you feel inferior, say you could have been king/queen, and then he'll take your head off. And then he'll lament because he's left in the dark forever...he's a fragile man...**


	10. Daggertail and the Only Reason

**A/N R&R, with INTENSITY**

Chapter 10 "Daggertail and the Only Reason"

Her red shirt that ended at the stomach was riddled with dust and sand from the air and so was her skirt, her feet bled, her arms tired, and her forehead was streaked with sweat, she realized the cool air near the water was not this far down. Farah wandered the mysterious land, trying to escape from everything. She thought of the bird she chased as a little girl in her dream, and how she wanted to simply fly away.

She sat on a flat rock that stood at the bottom of a hill, legs folded and arms encompassed around them. She wiggled her toes, the sand between them falling to onto the rock, it sliding off and back into formation with the rest of the sand. She scraped her index finger's nail against the rock over and over, looking at the gravel that protruded from it. Her brow was furrowed and her lips pursed.

When her thoughts settled at the bottom of the glass, and she thought and reflected on her conversation with her husband, her blood boiled and she started scratching at the rock faster and with more intensity.

"Was I mad to run off like that? Was I fault-finding, was I childish? I see the harm in what I did, but I couldn't stand there and listen to his overbearing pride speak its mind any longer. He spoke of his kingdom and revenge more than he spoke of his own son…my actions were justified, I see that now. He had married his blade long before he married me, he felt lust for blood and I was just the second wife of which he flaunted about town. Oh, I hate him so. Was I wrong to call him the light at the end of the tunnel all those years back? Am I wrong to cry now?"

Farah quietly wept, still absentmindedly clawing at the rock's surface. Her tears were that of anger and of odium for war and violence. In her stubborn mind, she would even go as far as to say she hated her husband at that moment, and that was the reason she ran, for she would have drawn her bow had it not lay back at King Bermudez's empire.

"Is it dreadful that I wish death at every shooting star I see? I think it is, yet I do not care. I was happy for so long in the beginning, and sad for even longer. I wish I knew what to call these swift changes in mood, these thoughts of sadness and the feeling that I'm obscured into the shadowy background of his mind, maybe if I was made of cold iron, of steel, or made of leather and strapped to a shield, then he would caress me, embrace me more than my flesh and blood body."

Farah cried into her shoulder, tears streaming over her elbow. She leaned over, nearly falling off of the edge of the gray, study rock.

"They say that if you look for something, you're going to find it, whether it be for better or for worse. And what I found was an illusion, a hallucination in the middle of the desert of matrimony, a taunting illusion that he had changed, that maybe I would be the one to tame the lion who thirsted for glory. It was something I fantasized about, that a family would be the only thing on his mind, forever. But the looking glass was already set on him, and it must have been too heavy to move for I would not stop looking for cracks in the perfection of my prince, and those cracks were cracks that I could not slip through and fix, for they were a part of him, his personality, and I was just someone he met after the damage was done, the clay was molded, and I had married a prisoner of war, a slave to his own destruction."

The Dark Prince swung his daggertail overhead before he flung it at the retreating pirate, it stabbing through his calf and he screamed in agony as he collapsed to the ground, he gave a loud thud as the wind was knocked out of his pulsing lungs.

"Ah, let me go! Let me go!" He pleaded, his nails digging into the sand as he tried to prevent the Dark Prince from pulling him back in like a fish. The charred man licked his dry, arid lips with a near shriveled tongue and his fiery yellow eyes were hungry for the scared man's soul. The drunk, fearful bandit turned on his back and fumbled with the sharp whip, trying to pull it from his leg, but to no avail. He then grabbed onto a dead pirate's leg, but the body simply dragged along with him.

The Dark Prince chuckled under his inert breathe, eerie and sinister as it corrupted the breezy air. He raised his sword as the injured pirate reached him, the pirate's eyes so wide that the green and hazel could be seen in them, as well as the tiniest grain of sand on his gritty face. As the pirate screamed his last breathe, cursing the Gods, The Dark Prince lowered his sword's curved blade with a grunt into the pirate's stomach, slipping easily through the man's ribcage, hitting right below the heart. The man gasped in shock, he was too stunned to feel the pain, but he knew he was going to die as sure and certain as he was born. The Dark Prince removed his sword, blood streamed from the man's ribs, pooling under him and leaving him uncomfortably warm, and then chillingly cold.

The Dark Prince left his victim to stare to the sky as he bled out. He observed the area around him, fifteen dead attackers turned victims, their bodies mutilated and strewn about. After a moment, no men lie alive but the mystifying monster with the crimson shined blade.

"What have you done?" A familiar voice asked from the misty walls of oblivion.

"What you could not, what you _would_ not, you lost control and I stepped in for you. You notice there is no scar upon you, those men stood no chance."

"They were merely drunk…"

"And you were merely angry. You must admit that they, being pirates, weren't decent men to begin with. They have most likely murdered children, women, and others just because jewelry hung from the victim's necks, or sat around their finger."

No response.

The Dark Prince gave no witty remark, he didn't comment on the Prince's silence at all. He listened to his surroundings, a smile among his charred face. "I can hear the blood leaking from these men's mouths, I think I can even hear it drying in the ground, and I can still hear their screams echoing in my ears." The Dark Prince sucked in air through his mouth. "And I wish there had been more of them."

Farah looked back towards the shore, her mind binding her brain. She wondered if the Prince was still on the other side of the wall, and she wished that he had found his way past it because she wanted him to come for her, it may have been petty but she wished for it more than anything at the time. She slid to the end of the rock, and she carefully guided her way down to the bottom. She smoothed out her skirt and looked around at where to go, though her anger had subsided and she wanted to return to the Prince, she figured once she saw him again the flame of fury would ignite again. She tightened the golden bracelets around her wrists and set off in a random direction, her curiousness getting the better of her.

The Dark Prince sat down and rested in the middle of his massacre. He retracted the daggertail and it wrapped around his forearm. He wiped his finger in the blood of his sword; it made a clear line in the weapon.

"I wonder where she is." The Dark Prince said.

"Then we should be looking for her! Let me loose!"

"You know it does not work like that, and we will search for her in due time, she is angry right now, and I can assure you that seeing you surely won't cheer her up."

"I don't enjoy your humor."

"I was not trying to be humorous, dear Prince."

"Why do you even wish to search for her? Won't you take us to Razgod now?"

"Finding the girl is what you want, and if we go ahead on our mission without finding her first, you will be sidetracked, distracted, and you will get us both killed."

"Is that the only reason?"

"You have questioned my motives twice now, Prince. Honestly, when I speak of the girl in an intimate manner, it is only to irritate you, which is the truth. That is the truth. That…is the truth."

The Dark Prince rubbed his fingers together, smearing the blood and smoothing it out, nearly to the thinness of water. The wind had picked up, and it had gotten colder, but the Dark Prince didn't feel the windy breeze. Whenever he blinked, it was as if two fireflies disappeared out of thin air. Whenever he talked, the world grew a little darker, and whenever he breathed, the air in front of him died. He was killing the world one minute at a time.

"You know, Prince, you talk as if you hadn't lost control, and you stayed in your body, you wouldn't have attacked those men."

The air that he didn't feel was the only sound in the noontime. "You would have killed them, you would have, but you would have gotten hurt, injured, you should be thanking me, you know."

The sand moved with the motion of the breeze. The Dark Prince sighed. "We'll find her, don't worry. And no, that wasn't the only reason; we also don't know where Razgod is, so how could I possibly take us to him if I have no knowledge of his whereabouts?"

One of the soldiers standing post in front of King Bermudez's kingdom walked outside of the outer gates to relieve himself. As he pissed, he caught the shadowy figure sitting down in his peripheral vision. He panicked and reached for his bow, The Dark Prince leaped up and began to swing his daggertail.

"No, no! Not the guards!"

"And why not? You already killed a few of them last night!"

The Dark Prince, nonetheless, didn't attack the man, but he chased him as he ran back into the palace grounds. To meet the Dark Prince was an insane defense, arrows, cavalrymen, and swords alike.

King Bermudez approached, moving past his grouped men. His eyes were narrow and then wide again, his mouth was stumbling.

"It's me, The Prince!" The Dark Prince yelled out.

"No..no you…you look just like them."


	11. Traps

Chapter 11 "Traps"

"Did my ears deceive me, did I hear correctly? What did he mean by 'You look just like them?' Were there more as good-looking as I? No, I'm one of a kind, I'm unique. Whatever he meant by that, I don't think he'll be waiting for me to ask him further questions. If he wants a fight…"

The king pushed his way to the front of his thick defenses. His brown eyes were narrow and judging, frightful and vengeful. The Dark Prince looked above him to see at least two-hundred archers in the castle towers, shielded behind thick, concrete walls with narrow openings for the arrows. Cavalry stood behind the foot soldiers, spears and swords tight in their sweaty palms, and the same vengeful look as the king in their eyes. King Bermudez would have walked right up to the Dark Prince had his soldiers not gently held him back, they were startled by the king's unusual calm disposition in handling the situation, but due reprisal boiled underneath the surface.

Everything was silent as the soldiers grouped together the common citizens to get them to safe distance, rounding up the children and women but letting the men who wanted to fight do as such. Women quietly cried into their shoulders as the sun beat down up the people in attendance. The Prince's scorching yellow eyes of the sun met the king's and they stared each other down until the Prince spoke his words that suffocated the air.

"You say I look like someone, I assume you mean Razgod's invaders?" He asked, a twisted snarl on his face, just daring the soldiers to do something irrational and drastic, he held his blood-smeared blade in his right hand as his razor-sharp "tail" wrapped around his other arm, black blood oozing down.

"I don't suggest you engage them." The pure prince warned from beneath the cover of a black void.

"If they want a fight, they'll get one unlike their wildest dreams, don't try and convince me otherwise."

"They came from the sea, but they looked as you do, black and charred, sands ran from their eyes like tears of a child…" Bermudez answered, his hands trembling.

"How did Razgod get hold of the sands?" The Prince asked his darker side.

"If I knew I wouldn't ask the king this next question." He turned his attention to Bermudez. "How did they come about?"

King Bermudez didn't answer, he shouted for his soldiers to engage the invader; he then grabbed a blade himself and ran back inside the crumbling palace walls.

"He's mad! This is all a misunderstanding!" The Prince cried out.

"How did they come about?" The Dark Prince asked again, yelling this time. He had grown irritated, but he was happy for a fight. His snarl contorted to a sinister grin and he let the daggertail drop to the ground, bunching up like chains. The archers released their bows, the foot soldiers chanted and they gained ground, their shields and swords tight in hand. It was as if in slow motion: The Dark Prince pulled his arm back and swung his daggertail overhead, and then he swung it at the first few men to be in his reach.

"It grows cold being alone, grows cold not having someone to hold me and keep me safe and at ease. Now I see my actions were brash; I shouldn't have run off like a broken-hearted girl. But…I am broken-hearted, I hate coming second place to the allure of blades and blood. I am nothing but a shadow under blood-sprayed crimson sands, and once it seeps into the ground it will be one with me, and he won't be able to tell the difference. Maybe he'll give me the attention he gives war if he can't…"

"I'm not just some slave girl from the slums, I am a princess and I deserve to be treated as such, right? Yes, I know I am right, I know I am. I wonder…is this about us or is this about our son, getting him home to his mother and father? A father's who's only there physically."

Farah lay in a cave, warm and dark. She refused to cry any longer, she refused to continue her inner battle and she refused to qualm about her love for her prince, _her_ prince. She collected herself and sat up, soon leaving the cave and setting off back to the kingdom, done with her tantrum.

The daggertail wrapped around a cavalryman, putting knife slits into his stomach, ribs, and spine, when the Dark Prince yanked the man off of the startled, brown horse, the man's armor crumpled like paper and the daggers pierced the man's skin, hitting all said points on his torso and back. The man fell to the ground, reeling in even more pain when the daggertail retracted from being wrapped around him like a giant snake.

Hundreds of men lie in the sands, their bodies mangled and their spirits broken. The Dark Prince knelt with his sword dug into the sand, arrows piercing him in multiple places. As he attempted to recover, more soldiers ran at him, he flew back as his sword sliced them lifeless. All was dark when his head was buried under the sand, and when he brought it back up, it was as if he had come up from minutes in the murky undersea of battle.

"I grow tired of this scuffle."

"It seems like more than a scuffle."

"It's an annoyance is what it is." The Dark Prince sighed. He stabbed a soldier repeatedly in the kneecap, dropping him, and then finishing him.

"We must find the king and stop this madness."

"Okay, one more." The Dark Prince said, whipping his bloody, dulling daggertail and hitting an elderly citizen that agreed to be a part of the newly formed militia in the throat, killing him instantly.

As all of the foot soldiers and cavalrymen lay dead, the archers doubled their offense and rained hell upon the Dark Prince, who ran as fast as he could into the palace, receiving more than just a few of the sharpened arrows.

"Ah…agh." He sighed, collapsing once he reached safety in the Court entrance.

"Have fun?" The Prince chuckled.

"More than enough fun for one day, thank you, Prince."

"I want my body back now."

"Trust me; I doubt you would want it back with the damage I've sustained at the moment."

"I thought you never get hit and hurt."

The Dark Prince chuckled. "Did you _see_ those archers?"

King Bermudez was holed up in his quarters; he looked down from his balcony at the slaughter. It was all too real, and all too soon for him to see such a sight in less than a week. As the Dark Prince approached the room, the Prince spoke out.

"He surely won't let you in looking like you do."

"I told you before…"

"You must find water."

Conveniently enough, there was a water basin right next to them. "Be prepared." The Dark Prince warned, taking a handful of water into his cupped hand and splashing it to his face. The Dark Prince was purified and his alter-ego came out, instantly doubling up in physical anguish.

"I _told_ you to be prepared."

The Prince quickly composed himself together, and he started for the king.

"I've been wondering, when will you inform Farah of me?"

"No talking, not right now."

"No talking, not right now? Do I seem a child to you? That was not an optional question to answer, just because the daggertail no longer appears on your arm in your form does not mean I do not exist."

"Out of sight out of mind, demon."

"Oh…but I _am_ your mind."

Before the Prince could approach the king, archers appeared out of nowhere and barricaded the two from each other in a line.

"You know who I am." The Prince told him.

"No, how do I know you are not just another water mirage, another one like my wife? And if you are not, you still house demons inside you, Prince, that: I saw."

"I house no such demons, unwind and I will explain all in explicit detail."

A long moment later, the Prince had finished telling the origins of his darker side to the king, who was still in immense confusion. "I know you are confused, but you'll have to take what I saw as the truth and ask no further questions. But if I may ask one, where is Razgod? His kingdom I mean."

"Uh…across the Barren Lands, it's an island surrounded by water as clear as the sky."

"That's far away; I see how many only think of them a myth, thank you."

"Wait, where is your wife? The stunning Farah."

"I do not know, that is where I was going next, to find her."

Farah ran through the gates right on time; the two had spoken of the devil, she contortioned at the brutal scene, as she was already afraid after seeing the dead pirates on the cobblestone and gravel by the river, she feared for the Prince's life. He ran out from the palace towards her, she ran at him as well and embraced him in a deep hug.

"I'm sorry, my love, I'm sorry."

"It is okay, it's all right, we must go, and we must go now."

"Wait, what's the hurry? What happened here? Is the king all right?"

"He's fine, let us go."

The Prince nearly dragged Farah out of the palace walls, trying to get to the ship that they abandoned.

"You know, Prince, you made me out to be such a bad guy to the king."

"That's because you are."

"You didn't even tell him how badass I was, you must admit that that fight back there was intense."

"'Badass'? What do you mean?"

"Get with the times, Prince, please; you make me ashamed to be a part of you."

As the two ran through the gates, a trapdoor opened from below and they plummeted into darkness, screaming.

**A/N-There is now a poll in my profile, "What would you like to see in upcoming chapters?" Enjoy!**


	12. Short Memories

**A/N-Very short, I'm sorry, very stressed with other projects and things. Patience is key.**

Chapter 12 "Short Memories"

"This is where I feel at home, in the darkness of this place, in the darkness of anything. Especially when I need time to think, everything is so confusing, everything is going so fast. And after what just happened, after my change, I feel chained, bound, lost to a battle I may never win, one I may never see the end of. If I could lose control, just like that…that easily…it is only right I become like I feel: chained, bound, and lost."

"I can still hear her words echoing in my head, was my mind really only set on revenge, on war? She thinks blood is the default of my psyche. It is only because of this beast inside of me, this animal I have conjured up by the darkest side of my heart that I'm this way. He has corrupted me, relapsed me back to the boy I once was, the boy who only wanted acceptance, honor, glory."

The Prince slowly arose, dust and grit upon his face and clothes. Everything was covered by a cloak of black. Nothing could be seen. The Prince, leaning against a rock wall, struggled to find the dagger that was sheathed on him. Once he found it, he pulled it out and it glowed an eerie azure in front of him. Usually it would be to his dismay that he find various traps obscuring his path to a timed, closing door in front of him, but his mind was elsewhere, maybe walking the path to hell.

_"Prince, I've just been thinking and…do you ever wonder what it would be like to be parents?"_

_"It hasn't crossed my mind too much." The Prince answered, trying to sleep._

_"Oh, all right." Farah said, trying not to sound shocked or hurt, she followed an ant as it walked across a crack in the ground._

_"Is it all right?"_

_"Yes."_

_"You lie."_

_"How so?"_

_"I can see it in your face; I can see that I shouldn't have said what I did."_

_"You spoke the truth."_

_"Every knowledgeable man knows not to speak the truth to women most of the time."_

_Farah raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused. "Is that so?"_

_"I've heard it before, that's all."_

_"Why hasn't it crossed your mind?"_

_"…It just hasn't, Farah."_

_"All right."_

_"It's crossed yours, I see."_

_"More than once, I must admit."_

_"Is a child what you desire?"_

_"A child is what I think about, not what I desire, not yet_."


	13. You Give Me Power

**A/N-Hello, R&R, because you know you'll want to after reading this. ;)**

Chapter 13 "You Give Me Power"

The Prince swallowed a few audible gulps. His nervousness was palpable, maybe even comical, since he had been nervous even after having been in those situations for most of his life. An acute pain made itself known on his back.

Wincing, he pulled up his shirt and looked at his back the best he could. There were scratches in swirly lines that just pierced the first layer of skin, making light red lines. He gripped the ends of the shirt and completely pulled it off. The back of it was torn where he had slid off of the rocks. Sighing, he let the shirt go and it dropped out of view into the darkness.

He hadn't realized the magnitude of the darkness until he watched the shirt disappear. He couldn't even see below his shins. Clicks and clanks of the animate, automated snares echoed through the mysterious cave.

Every buzz from the saws in the wall and every snip that sounded out every time the traps fell back into their holes made the Prince jump slightly, every time he closed his eyes, tilted his head, and spewed in breath, irritated.

Drawing his attention from the traps for a moment, he grazed the air above the ground with the dagger, trying to emit light as he found Farah.

When she didn't appear in the azure light, he walked around slowly trying to find her, and he called out her name with a hushed tone. She wasn't there.

"Maybe we should start making her pay for how many times she goes off on her own, one gold piece per disappearance."

"Why didn't she wake me?"

"She did not wake _us_ because she could not see _us_, Prince."

"I have a feeling she wouldn't have tried if she had the eyes of a bat."

"You think she's still upset with you?"

"Oh, so now it's only _me_, no _us_?"

"I'm not the one who angered the poor girl. And I ask because she seemed awfully happy to see us above ground, but you shoved her aside…if you hadn't noticed."

"I did no such thing."

"You think you're such a kind man. Can't you see you're just like me?"

The Prince stopped his search in its tracks. He held the dagger out in front of him as he received the inner voice's words. He bit his lip to the point blood rushed just to the surface, but he did not break skin.

"You dragged her by her arm towards the boat. She hugged you and you pushed her and were simply on your way. I'm actually surprised you cared if she came along or not."

The Prince's chest heaved in and out every angry breath he took. His heavy breathing turned to gritted teeth.

"You always love to voice your opinion, voice why you care about her."

"I've already told you my motive."

"No, that was caring enough to bring her back, why do you care how she's treated?"

"Are we going to go into this again?"

"Answer my question!"

"Prince, what am I expected to say? What is it I'm supposed to say? I want my kingdom, simple as that, I want my kingdom by any means!"

In the Prince's distraction, he had backed into a running saw and it grazed his back, adding more scars. He nearly jumped forward, reaching at his back, nearly falling to his knees. "Damn it, just stop altogether, stop!" He shouted, it echoing through the darkness, accompanying the sound of the threats ahead.

He sat down on the ground, his arm resting against his knee. All was silent as he contemplated how to make good of a bad situation, and nothing came to him.

He went back to the torn shirt, the dagger guiding his way. He used it to cut a piece of cloth from it and he let it float back down into the darkness. Wrapping the shred around his leg, he slid the dagger between and tied a knot. All in front of him was illuminated.

With a "hup!" he swung on the pipe that extended from one wall to the other, steadily being sawed off by the parallel saws. Hitting the other side of the floor, he rolled and nearly was cut by another trap. Falling backwards, he avoided it. His chest heaved as he regained himself, holding his heart as if he was having some sort of attack.

All that trussed his mind was Farah, only Farah, the image of her sitting on his bed, her red skirt covering only her inner thighs, her shirt flimsy and torn. It was as if a migraine hit him like a blow to the head. Intense, concentrated, illogical.

"_I've decided, Prince, children is a good idea…" She spoke, just above the eeriness of a whisper. The Prince, in a trance, approached her like a man to a treasure he's been searching for, for decades. She took his calloused hand in her soft one and slowly lured him to her, their breath hot on each other's faces. Farah looked like a blur, as if the Prince was losing his immaculate vision. But even though, he still found her lips. She shuddered at his breath and the reason behind it: the craving, the wanting, and the hurting._

_His tongue dragged across her parted lips. She didn't know what to do; she sat frozen for a time. Soon she relaxed, or forced herself to, and gave herself over. Her tongue met his now, and they kissed the night away. Taking her head in his hand, he pressed his kiss deeper, his eyes closed, and his pain bubbling just beneath the surface. _

_How long they had denied each other this, how long they had denied each other this unfathomable love. It was dumb, it was slow. And every kiss made that fact more and more noticeable. Every touch made it more and more unbearable. But every sensation made it disappear._

_Farah released a shallow breath she had been holding, making a faint, vulnerable sound that sounded like it came from another room, and the Prince responded by kissing her neck once more. He pulled a thin, black clip from her hair. It fell over her shoulders like a black waterfall. _

_His fingers washed through it before it even had time to settle itself over her back. He didn't know if she was softer or the sheets she lay on. He twisted her braid around his finger; he handled it with care, like a snake that was just destined to bite. _

_Farah tried to hide her groans, she tried to hide just how much she wanted embrace. Her disposition was in such a way that someone would have thought she was being interrogated and she simply refused to answer. So maybe she hadn't given herself over, after all. _

_The Prince hadn't noticed, he only wanted what he wanted. He kissed her, he loved her. Into her, he was lost to a blue fire, a calm fire that burned in his mind. It WAS his mind. She wondered what she was doing wrong, why she wasn't able to relinquish herself to her lover. He WAS her lover, after all, and she had chosen this. She did want it. She loved the care the Prince finally showed; she loved the full attention, the feel of his beard against her cheek. It was just the problem of her showing it, the incapability to show him just how much she really cared. _

_And soon the Prince started to notice, he could sense her distance from the bed, from the world. Without speaking, to preserve the sensual silence, he nudged his head and groaned, wondering what her problem was. She shook her head, diverting her eyes. Now he figured words must be spoken, so he spoke._

"_It's okay, this doesn't have to happen. I can stop right now, if that is what you wish."_

_Farah felt bad, she knew she shouldn't deny the Prince any longer his desires, and she knew she shouldn't deny herself any longer either. She aggressively kissed her husband, a wave of uncertainty rushing off of her, and as soon as the uncertainty came to her, it went away._

_The Prince took her by the waist, and lifted her further up the bed. She wrapped her legs around him, the golden anklets on her ankles jingling against his back. She pulled the Prince's shirt from his back. The cold sensation of her bracelets against his skin contrasting with the heat of the moment sent shivers down his spine. He jerked, and she gasped. He slowly bent his head down, lightly kissing her. _

_He nibbled on her earlobe, he blew chill air into her ear, he kissed her forehead, and he kissed her nose. As gentle as he could be, he was. What he wanted was out the window, he didn't care for himself anymore; he only lived to please her. _

_She put a finger to his lips, stopping him. Confused, he watched her every move. She reached down from the side of the bed, pulling up something wrapped in clothe. When she unveiled it, the Prince looked disgusted. It was a pomegranate, and Farah sweetly smiled when she saw the Prince's reaction. She put a piece into her mouth, it made her fingers messy. The Prince loved to watch her eat it, every chew made her so sweet, so innocent. She broke off another red piece, the juice spilling out. She waved it in front of the Prince._

"_No."_

"_Try it, for me?"_

_Hating himself, the Prince opened his mouth, his eyes tightly closed. Farah tucked it under his teeth. It rested on his tongue for moments. Farah laughed quietly. _

"_Chew it."_

_The Prince slowly closed his mouth, his teeth destructing the fruit. He tried to not move it around on his tongue too much, but the flavor was still present. Maybe it was the thrill of the moment, or maybe he had just changed, but the pomegranate tasted sweet, tasted remarkable. Farah rolled her eyes, the smile still on her face, and she fed him more. They kissed deeply with their messy mouths, the Prince pulling her closer to him. _

The Prince woke up, panting and sweating. He didn't notice he had fallen asleep. He looked at his chest, and he realized he hadn't fallen asleep but passed out because of a loss of blood. The trap had cut him after all. He held the wound, trying to suppress the blood.

"Let me out, you'll heal." A voice echoed in the cave. It startled the Prince.

"Let you out and lose control again?"

"Yes, if you die, I die, and I don't want to die."

The Prince sighed, knowing no other option lest he bleed to death on the cold floor in a cave that resembled a black abyss in the ocean. He pulled out the dagger from the makeshift sheath it was in.

"What are you doing?"

"Improvising…"

He gripped a piece of his pants in his hand, and started to cut below it from right to left. He set it against the wound flat, and tied it around his waist. His inner demon seethed tremendously but said nothing.

He regained his energy after he passed the remaining traps. He ran as fast as he could and he slid underneath the timed closing door, which snapped shut right after he entered.

Walking, the Prince's unwanted companion made his voice heard.

"What did you dream of?"

"It was-it was just a memory."

"Was it a memory of war?"

"No, it was a memory of Farah."

"I see."

"You should know what I dreamed of anyway. Since you 'are me' and all that."

"My mind was elsewhere."

"Did you dream, too?"

"Yes."

"You dreamt of war?"

"I dreamt of Farah."

Before the Prince was able to comprehend and understand what his inner voice said and meant, he called out.

"Look, Prince, a door!"

"Where is it?"

"It's to the right."

The Prince turned his head and saw a giant door that looked as if it was used as a court to host parties in once upon a time. He walked over and stepped through it, half expecting to see a room full of high-class partiers, drinking their wine and laughing because of jokes they deemed funny.

But if there were said partiers, they were only present in piles of bones and clothe now, scattered across the floor against the walls, hanging from ropes that were more obvious traps then others.

Holes were in some of the walls where arrows thrust through. Wooden stakes stood tall from the hidden pits in the ground, where bones and skeletal heads spent eternity.

The Prince walked very tediously, so slowly he seemed to bore himself. He watched the ceiling; he watched his back, his dagger still in hand and his other hand resting on the butt of the curved sword.

"Prince…" A soft voice said with confidence, as if they had known him for years.

He turned his head, seeing nothing.

"All right…who's there?"

"My sweet, sweet Prince…" It said.

"Something's not right." His inner voice warned.

A hand rested on his shoulder, it was such a warm hand. He turned. The dagger flew up into the space right in front of Kaileena's neck. She laughed. His eyes grew wide; his began to hold a breath he didn't realize he was holding. His lips quivered as the dagger clattered to the floor.

"Kai…"

"…Leena." She finished for him, smiling. She took his face into her cupped hands, as if she felt pity for him. "It's been too long, Prince."

"Kaileena, I thought you were…"

"Don't say it, it'll hurt too much. No, I'm here, and I'm back…for you."

"…back…for me..." He whispered, taking her face into his hands as well, pressing her into a longing kiss. Her red sleeves dragged across the floor as she toppled to the ground. They both kept the kiss locked as they fell. It was hard for either to breath as passion rushed into the room.

Kaileena rolled the Prince over and she got on top. They kissed intensely for moments. Kaileena reached her foot back and managed to get the dagger's handle between her big and middle toe.

"Something's wrong."

The Prince didn't respond.

"Something's wrong. Prince, listen!"

No respond. The Prince was lost to his passion with the girl. Soon, he started feeling his mouth dry up and his eyes burn, his fingers clenched around Kaileena's waist but she seemed to enjoy the roughness. He threw her off of him and she grunted as she hit her head against the ground. The Prince then went limp, and he fell to the ground as well. He emerged a monster, with eyes that glowed like the sun in the dark, a mystifying image that one would only see if the sun came out at night.

Kaileena rose with anger, she scowled and she held two blades in her hand that weren't going to be used with good intentions. She dove, outstretching her arms for the dagger. But the Dark Prince flung his dagger tail and he brought the Dagger of Time to him. Kaileena leapt at him and the Dark Prince stuck the dagger into her, she leaned over his extended arm, in immense pain. He then drew the curved sword and slashed her against the back, making her fall from his arm to the ground.

"No! No!" The Prince cried out in anguish but his dark side dismissed him as he was dismissed.

He took his foot and cracked it against Kaileena's face over and over again.

"Please, stop, please, please…" Kaileena begged weakly through broken teeth and a shattered jaw. The Dark Prince dropped to his knees and stabbed Kaileena in the chest multiple times. Convulsing, she rested limp and then evaporated into misty water.

"I told you something was wrong, that wasn't Kaileena." He sighed.

"No, no, you liar…you liar..."

"We must find Farah and soon."

He ran through the room, quickly blazing through the various traps in the room.

"It was all a lie, that's what Razgod warned us about, it's okay now, it's okay." The Dark Prince said, uncharacteristically sympathetic.

Farah lay on the ground when she was found. She looked like she was in an intense, challenging battle. The room was beautiful for being underground. Dragon statues were built on both sides of the room, fearsome and elegant at the same time. A huge, red carpet was over the entire area.

"Who would've thought I would find you here…" He scoffed, approaching her unconscious body.

"Farah…do you remember me?" He asked, brushing his hand across her face. It was as if he was scared to touch her, thinking he would taint her with even a single touch, but wanting to hold her so bad. Farah's eyes popped open; she gasped and kicked the Dark Prince away from her. She flew backwards and spun up, picking up her bow and sliding an arrow into it. She drew the bow back, aiming it at the grinning Prince.


	14. Scorching Eyes of the Sun

**A/N-Yeah, this chapter's BA, I've impressed myself, so you know what to do.**

Chapter 14 "Scorching Eyes of the Sun and the Creature that Stole the Light"

"It took me until now to realize there's something very wrong with me. My emotions are running wild like horses in green fields. There are two sides to me, and one cannot control the other. The way I leapt after Kaileena, the way I leapt after an illusion with such force, such passion, such want…I must surely be going mad…well, madder. What would Farah have thought if she saw my actions? She would take me for an unsavory word that only the dark side of me would say.

I feel like I'm being pulled apart, not just mentally but physically. One side of me loves Farah, but the other side of me loves Kaileena. It is love, isn't it? I remember she called it duty, but the word that creeps around my head, shrouded in smoke, is lust. The creature must have read my mind, it must have known about Kaileena through my thoughts to take such a form. But that alone makes me wonder why Kaileena is still lurking around up there in the first place. What kind of king am I if I can't even align my heart with something meaningful? Do I give my heart to war, do I give it to marriage, or do I give it to passion?

I believe that everything happens for a reason, it was fate that Kaileena died, it was fate that we weren't meant to be. I find it strange that the women in my life have both felt the cold hand of death upon their shoulder, and only by luck has one returned to my arms. It's as if I'm destined to be alone forever, and if I don't fight fate, my destiny will be right. I believe in fate, but I believe it can be rewritten, I believe my desires lie in a different palace than my heart. Desire can lie with the co-owner of my body and mind, and love can lie with Farah and my Sana."

The Dark Prince tilted his head back and the arrow whizzed past him, nearly grazing the charred skin of his flaky neck. Farah rose to her feet and launched another arrow, her target breaking it down with the outside of his forearm. The look in her eyes was one of suspicion, one of drowsily fear, as if she had just woken up from a nightmare she had been having for years. And what was the reality wasn't far from the analogy. The Dark Prince surely was a nightmare, a ruthless, vicious nightmare that trembled at the thought of her unconscious body dead on the floor. He rose to his feet and extended his arms in a manner one would for inviting someone to hug.

Farah held the bow and arrow back as far as it would go without snapping. The look on her face seemed like one of hesitation, but it was one of confusion.

"Why are you grinning?"

"Just a funny situation, is all."

Farah narrowed her eyes and her eyebrows furrowed, she slowly shifted to her left, as the Dark Prince crept to his. It was a circle of fire, a circle of confusion and of tension. The Dark Prince noticed Farah's slight limp and the continuous shaking of her head. The usual sarcasm and hatred that plagued his facial appearance lifted and what returned was that same uncharacteristic look of sympathy and worry. Numerous times he stopped his hands from reaching to her, keeping them balled up in fists to his sides. After moments of walking in a circle of mistrust and uneven silence, Farah exhaled a long held breath and collapsed to a knee, trickles of blood seeping into the carpet, which grew even redder. The Dark Prince exhaled a sharp breath of his own and approached her in a hurry, checking the vital areas of her head and torso.

"Where's the wound?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know where you're hurt?"

Farah snapped out of her delusion brought on by her injury and she backed up a tremendous amount, nearly tripping over her feet. She raised the bow and arrow back up at the Dark Prince, whose scorching eyes of the sun never left her docile, calming, brown ones.

"Why are you here?"

"Where is your wound?" He repeated, with a hint of irritation in his smoldering voice.

"I told you, I don't know…why are you here?"

"I'm here to find you, you ran off."

"No, no I mean what is-where's the Prince?"

"I'm here, Farah, I'm here!" An inner, familiar voice cried out. "I'm here…the traitor. The philanderer…

"I'm here." The Dark Prince answered with true sincerity.

"I thought we were rid of you."

"You would have me gone?"

"I would have you _dead_."

"Hmm…" He responded, even such a tiny phrase echoed through the air with such power, such intimidation, but that only concealed the faint offended feeling. "You speak cold words."

"My arrowheads are even colder."

"You hate me, but have so much love for the Prince, when he feels _nothing_ for you, as a matter of dismal fact, I just witnessed…"

"And this is where my life ends and I am excluded from the gates of happiness. He's going to tell of my actions, he's going to tell her what I did…wait, would it matter? She wasn't real, she wasn't real, she wasn't real…I don't know who I'm trying to convince right now…Farah doesn't even know Kaileena existed, since I had 'forgotten' to mention her in my stories of the past. Does that make it better or does that make it worse?

I knew he had hidden intentions, I knew he was a lying demon. I always knew he was a demon…he can't be a part of me, he's too evil, he's too different from what I am…or at least what I strive to be. A wise man once told me, don't try to be too much of one side, and don't try to bury the other side-the side you're ashamed of. Be both sides equally, be the best of both sides of your mind, the light and the dark, the good and the bad. For when they swirl and mix, which they surely will, you'll be prepared for whatever you turn out to be, you'll be stronger, much stronger. You won't be able to tell the difference at the end of the day anyway.

His intentions, why he _really_ wanted to get her back, I know it now. I just had the feeling deep in my gut. Whenever I saw Farah butterflies would fly around in my stomach, but whenever I saw her from his eyes in that golden, faraway fog, moths flew around in there, and it was the same feeling. That same feeling of worship…but it hurt."

"What does he do?" Farah asked. The Dark Prince had been quieter for longer than he wished, overhearing the Prince's thoughts as his own.

"Nothing…just…he's not the man you think he is."

"You do not know him."

"I _am_ him! Why is that so hard for people to believe?"

Farah's concerned face betrayed her beauty and she looked older than thirty-five. Wrinkles made themselves known on the outlines of her mouth, she was frowning too much. Her palms grew sweaty and she began to lose grip of the stringy, thin bow that was fine enough to cut a diamond.

"One thing I can tell you, he's hid this from you, he's hid _me_ from you again."

"And that is his and my problem, but you and I have a problem of our own."

"You're hurt, let me help you." The Dark Prince digressed. He began to walk towards her again and she swiftly backed away.

"Touch me and you die."

He continued to walk towards her in obvious concern. Her sweaty fingers released the arrow, half accident and half deliberate. It struck the black, humanoid creature in the throat, black dust puffing from his neck as if a sack of flour had been dropped. He gripped it and he pulled it one way while he turned his neck the opposite. He quietly sighed in agony that was surprising he even felt. Maybe the pain was more emotional than physical.

"Farah…"

"Yes, Demon…?" Farah asked, with sarcasm in her tone.

"Please, let me help you." He sighed. This caught both Farah and the inner Prince off guard, not just the word, but the way he said it.

"Wait…there was another one, there was another one!"

"Woman, have you gone mad? Another what?"

Just then a creepy, lanky creature came from the side of The Dark Prince and tackled him to the side. Then whatever light happened to find itself in the room dissipated, even the Dagger of Time's glow. Farah panicked and loaded an arrow into her bow, which did no good as the bizarre creature smacked it out of her hands.

Its tongue rattled like a snake and it had no eyes. Its teeth were razor sharp and would have frightened Farah if she had been able to see them. Its flesh-like skin was pitch black but surely was not human skin. It was rubbery, tough, like a shark. Its hands were gigantic and skinny like its form, and claw-esque.

Farah thrashed in the darkness, wildly attempting to get the creature away from her. As it could see in the night it produced, it calmly walked over to her with an awkward limp. Every time Farah felt cold hands touch her legs she kicked harder and many times knocked the creature back, amusing it. The rattle of the tongue helped Farah keep tabs of it as she thrashed around on the ground. She soon started to get up but the creature gripped the long, red carpet under her feet and pulled it backwards, instantly stopping her getaway, when she fell, she lost handle of her bow and she became helpless as the creature made its way to her with chilling ease.

Farah whimpered, looking around for the Dark Prince's golden eyes and tribal patterns on his charred body, but she saw nothing. She began to pray silently as the wound on her head made her lightheaded once again. She grew tired, overwhelmed by the headache and the fear. She lay there with uneasy wait as the creature walked towards her.

Farah closed her eyes as the creature grabbed her legs again, and it began to drag her across the floor with unnatural speed, especially considering its unique limp. She fought it at first, her nails dragging along the floor. But then she succumbed again and let her back slide across the broken, cracked floor that used to be marble before it became a landscape for traps. The creature began to laugh, a terrifying laugh that sounded like crows cawing and men screaming at the same time. The way it looked at Farah would make one believe it wished to devour her.

The Dark Prince was descending to the room floor from the wooden rafters, his legs wrapped around the shadows that he manipulated to his will. The daggertail wrapped around the creatures neck, and the blade in his other head split the creature's head from its body. Light beamed from the creature's body where the head once was, almost as if the creature had swallowed the light. Farah looked to the Dark Prince as the light shown on him as if he was heavenly.

Farah regained her breath and held her heart as she calmed down. Not long after, the Dark Prince rappelled from the ceiling to meet her. He helped her get the creature's hands from wrapped around her legs, which stuck there like glue. He waited as she got up, extending his hand to help her. To his shock, she took it and forced herself up.

She looked at him with eyes that radiated comfort, at least more comfort than they normally showed towards him. He looked at her the same way and cupped her cheek in his hand. She gasped as he abruptly collapsed to the ground, breathing heavy.

"What's wrong?"

"Silly me…I forgot…my health drops…without…"

"Without what, what do you need?"

"Sand…sand."

As if Farah had called them herself, a troupe of men rushed into the room, armed with swords, shields, and spears. They wore silver and golden armor, which was spotless and steely. They all looked like one-man armies, as if each one could take on thousands of men on their own. Twenty of them formed an outer circle, aiming their spears, as the rest of the men roughly wrapped the weak Prince in heavy chains and two men subdued Farah by the arms as the others took him away.

Back in front of the palace, Farah and the Dark Prince were taken to the front stairs. Farah caught glimpse of King Bermudez, who was against a wall muttering to himself in guilt and panic.

"What's happening to us, Bermudez? Help us!"

"They asked where you were, they forced me, they forced me!"

"How'd they even know we were here?"

"I can't hide twenty thousand dead soldiers in the front of my palace all of a sudden!" He answered, closing his eyes and hitting his head on the wall behind him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

From behind the door that led to the inside of the palace, King Adriant came into view, anger and reprisal written on his forehead in metaphorical blood. Farah was confused as to who he was as the King walked down the stairs. As he came upon the Dark Prince, he fought an inner battle not to draw his sword and finish the monstrosity himself. "Take them to the tombs!" He yelled, and his men quickly obliged.

He was a man no younger than twenty-eight, who was clean shaven but with long, brunette hair. He also had dark eyes that seethed with restlessness, as if he had been up for nights plotting something. King Bermudez held his face in his hands as King Adriant and his close, personal guards gathered inside the palace, heading to the tombs.

The Dark Prince was thrown onto the cold, wet ground. He was disoriented and drained. King Adriant studied him as his bodyguards took their places at all exits of the tomb, and King Bermudez and his own personal guards make their way in second. He hung his head in shame.

"Water makes these things die, you say?" He asked, pointing to the Dark Prince.

"Yes." Bermudez answered quietly.

"But I thought they were made from water."

"This one's of a different sort."

"Put him in then." Adriant ordered to his guards. They picked the Dark Prince up and tied him up. King Bermudez approached his friend, pleading.

"Please, this one is different from the others."

"So you've said."

"I mean in entirety as well, he can revert back to a human, he is a friend."

"A friend?"

"The Prince of Babylon, remember?"

"This is him? I remember when I first met him, I was shocked. I figured Cyrus the Great's descendents ruled the empire still."

"He's a friend…"

"Not in this form, he's not. Put him in." He repeated. Farah shouted and screeched as the men picked up and carried the Dark Prince towards a crypt full of water. They slowly dunked him in.

"Noooo!" He screamed as he took a deep breath to hold before he was engulfed by the water. Quickly, the guards covered the stone crypt with its covering, which slid into place. The crypt wasn't completely filled to the brim with water and the Dark Prince slowly started his way to the very top where air was breathable. He went in the Dark Prince but emerged from the torture the familiar Prince, who desperately gasped for air.

"I'm cold, I'm wet, I'm scared, but I'm myself and that's comfort enough. I've got to get out of here, I can't stay afloat forever, I'll have to go back down. But what really worries me, is the look Farah gave my demon. A look that I haven't seen in so long, a look one would give to only their paramour. It hurts me more than these restraints, to think that even a monster could garner more love to give to her than I can, and receive that in return, me: the lecher.

I saw it even when he couldn't, when he wouldn't. He loves her as I love her, maybe more than I. Maybe the reason I'm this way is because I've given some characteristics to him. He's given me more power and drive; I've given him sensitivity and compassion. And it's affecting us both in the worst way. Maybe I should just end our suffering and drown both ourselves in this crypt. I mean…this tomb, it's fitting enough."

Farah broke free of the men who restrained her and she ran to the crypt, attempting to push off the covering. King Adriant grabbed her and flung her to the ground behind them, she fell with a grunt of acute pain and chronic frustration. He walked over to her and put his foot on her chest, pressing down lightly but still taking breath from her lungs seeing as she had a thin physique. "You love a monster." He told her as he looked not at her, but into her, into her soul, to see just who would love such a monster as the one that was drowning in the crypt. Farah tried to look at him with an angry face, but it's hard to be intimidating with tears flowing down your face and pooling into the nook and crannies of your ears.

"Please, Adriant, let her go, she doesn't know what she's doing." King Bermudez pleaded, gripping his shoulder. King Adriant looked at his friend with irritation and lifted his foot of off Farah, who immediately drew in a long, drawn out inhale of breath. King Adriant smugly left the room and his men followed as Farah yelled at King Bermudez. "You traitor, you traitor!"


	15. Staying Afloat

Chapter 15 "Staying Afloat"

With tears of anger in her eyes, Farah ran as fast as she could down the halls that were still under construction. She ran so fast that everything around her was simply a blur. She didn't even know where she was going. She just wanted to get away. King Bermudez followed for a short time after but soon stopped, bellowing out. "I'm sorry, Princess, I'm sorry!" He yelled through cupped hands that shook with nervousness and bubbling guilt. King Adriant stood beside his fellow king, shouting at his men, ordering them to apprehend the fleeing girl.

Bermudez tugged on Adriant's light-blue overcoat collar as he beseeched for mercy. "She has done no wrong, Adriant, she has done no wrong!"

"Let go of me, she knows this beast better than anyone here and she has answers. That's wrong enough."

"I didn't know you even _had_ questions."

Her vision became even more impaired when the stinging tears reached her pupils and blurred her sights into nothing but sadness. She had no choice but to stop at the top of the Palace stairs and rub her eyes, sobbing. This also gave her more time to catch her breath, but she was flying down the concaving stairs when the guards reached it. They had to maneuver their way down it since it had completely collapsed after Farah had made her way down them. She had made a left turn and the men would have not known which way she went had she not had her bracelets and anklets on, which pinged against each other. She had lost her bow when she was captured and it lay in the front of the Palace grounds. Ironically, she found herself dodging arrows that whizzed past her with the utmost speed. Many arrows that were aimed to immobilize her legs collided with the anklets, sparing her. As if some divine intervention was in play.

Soon, the light of the sun blinded Farah even more as she came from the dark tombs of the Palace. When the crystals in her eyes adjusted, she hurriedly tried to find her bow. She searched around the grounds, trying to stay hidden from Adriant's and Bermudez's men who were stationed outside, which was a hard thing to do. She fell to her knees and scrambled around in the sand. A single arrow accompanied the longbow, to her dismay. Behind her, a troupe of men had gathered, Adriant and Bermudez not far behind. One filled with bloodlust and the other filled with guilt that ate away at his usual optimism and pride. King Bermudez was a big man, in both physical size and political status. But compared to Adriant's determination and flawless battle commands, Bermudez seemed a scared child. He could only stand and wonder how strong Razgod's forces had become to overtake such a kingdom with ease, let alone five of them.

Farah had her bow aimed at the men. She quickly backed up and swiftly switched targets continuously. Her hands trembled, not so much for her own safety but for the safety of her husband, who lay drowning in a crypt full of water, water that restricted any help from his stronger alter-ego. She weighed her odds. It didn't take long. Men gathered behind her as soon as Adriant snapped his fingers. She didn't turn around. She knew panicking and defending would do no good, because she was defending nothing. She couldn't even get off of the island if she had escaped. She held her bow for a long time in her sweaty hands. She gave one glance behind her and sighed, dropping her bow. It made a puff of dust when it hit the soft ground, showing the weight of the bow. The guards and soldiers lowered their weapons and put her arms behind her back, then roping them together. She grunted as they forced her to the ground and waited as Adriant came. Bermudez was going to follow but Adriant put his index finger up, telling Bermudez not to follow.

Adriant approached Farah and raised his hand. It swayed there in the air awhile he pondered whether to strike her or not. A soldier held her head in place by her chin and mouth but she struggled to turn away. Gritting his teeth, he looked back at Bermudez and then let his hand slowly float to his side. He inhaled and exhaled deeply for a minute. "Bring her inside." He said slowly.

The Prince struggled to remain afloat, the area of air so slim that his nose crunched against the cold stone. His arms pushing against the soaking stone below him every time he felt himself begin to sink. His rapid breathing sounded strange to his ears that were submerged in water. It also felt strange the water spilling and refilling in them. Once his fingers grew tired of pushing his whole weight back up over and over again he took a deep breath and went back under. He was deaf and blind then. Not only that, but disoriented, confused. How long had he been in there… minutes, hours?

"It's hard staying afloat. It's hard trying to stay alive when every fiber of your being says to not. 'You married a monster'. I heard it, I heard it and it is true. I heard it and it hurts. She did marry a monster, one half. So why does she stay under my cover, in my bed, in my chambers, in my presence, in my kingdom, in my world?"

"She stays because we care for her and she knows it."

"Why are you here?"

"Because you always ask these questions that go unanswered. I felt you deserved a few."

"You know, you showed your true colors tonight."

"All colors except blue. I loathe blue."

"In all seriousness, you love her and you hid it. I knew it, so you must have been hiding it from yourself."

"I don't love her, I care for her, and I never said the word love."

"Is that right?"

"But I would take her from you if the opportunity arises."

"What do you mean by that?"

"What does it sound like? She wants a man who can protect her with confidence, not one that broods and sulks like a jilted child who was rejected by the 'love of their life'."

"For the tiniest moment I thought you had good intentions."

"For the tiniest moment I thought you had a spine. Well, I guess we both have high expectations."

"I could drown us both right now."

"You know, I've heard it's impossible to drown yourself?"

"I know. You hear only what I hear."

Farah was taken to the dungeons as Bermudez snuck away to the Prince's whereabouts. He brought a few guards along with him and they, together, pushed the crypt covering off of it. The Prince spewed water out onto the side of the crypt, gasping desperately for air. Bermudez's men helped him out of the crypt, and laid him on the floor. He was soaking wet. His voice shuddered violently as he shivered into himself. Bermudez knelt down beside him, getting his own clothes wet.

"I never meant any harm."

"I know…it's not…your fault…where's Farah?"

"They caught her. They're taking her to the prison as we speak."

"Take-take…me…there, please."

"You're in no condition to be the hero."

"I'm in no condition…to do anything, but just-just take me there." His voice broken by chills down his spine.

Bermudez whispered to his men and they picked the Prince up by his arms and dragged him to the prisons, where Farah sat, rubbing her rope-burned wrists.

"What happened here, why is he here?" Adriant asked accusingly.

"He got loose, we brought him here."

"Why didn't you just put him back into the crypt? It doesn't matter. Kill him."


	16. Hush

**A/N-Thank you all for reviewing, you are all awesome. Just ask the Dark Prince, but do so behind a steel door and a thick window. Matter of fact, just write him a note.**

**Read and review, my warriors of glass.**

**I have a formspring as of now. Same name, no spaces. **

**Now that I'm done advertizing...**

Chapter 16 "Hush"

The Prince was thrown into the room, the side of his head hitting against the hard floor. Two of Adriant's men walked past him into the room, one shut the gate behind them. Bermudez shoved Adriant out of the way and pressed himself against the bars, gripping them tight. One man drew his sword while the bigger man drew a spear, tilting it down to where the head of the blade just nicked his neck. So if he even lifted up his head he would be paralyzed or dead. Farah gasped when she saw, she tried to run to him but she was cuffed to a water bowl inserted into the wall. This dungeon cell was considered one of the luxurious ones, since it had a water bowl and a tiny bit of light that peered from a crack above. To many prisoners who had been condemned there in the kingdom's golden age, that light was often taken as a Heavenly sign. But all of the prisoners envious of these cells did not know that the bowl was not only used for drinking water, but it was used as a toilet as well. The bucket would be emptied out by being drained out of the gate, but since some of the cells were on a slant, some urine would drain back down and soil their feet. When drinking water would come, the prisoners would be forced to use it to wash their feet instead of drink it. Some still drank it.

Adriant grabbed King Bermudez's arm and attempted to pry him from the bars, but the king held on and spoke before he was lifted.

"Stunning Farah, Prince, please forgive me! I had no idea, no idea!"

"You had the power to stop me, Marcelo, you had the power." Adriant said to him.

"I am not a strong man anymore! I have no kingdom, no hope!" Bermudez cried out, finally being taken from the bars once one of Adriant's bodyguards stepped in to help. Bermudez stumbled back.

"I have no kingdom, no son, none of us do. That is our first priority, and it should be yours!" Adriant shouted. He then slapped Bermudez trying to snap him out of his desperate rage. Farah overheard his words, and she thought at that moment that all he said was a lie. Not everyone valued the welfare of their child more than their kingdom. She looked down to her Prince, who was shivering from the cold water that no one bothered to dry off. She tried to look into his eyes but he faced the damp, blackened ground. She tried to be angry, but at that moment she couldn't if she tried. She thought of the times when the Prince would carry little Sana around the palace while she did her own personal business. He would take him to the arena matches and buy him sweet candy, visit the main cities and talk with his citizens who were honored to be in his presence while Sana sat on his head, pulling on his hair. She thought of her husband and the distancing that occurred between them since the boy's been gone. Her heart pained, her head ached. She looked to Adriant. She knew she could single-handedly play with his mind and tear it to pieces. "One of the perks of being a woman," Her mother, Lavanya, often said. Lavanya translated to "graceful." Farah contemplated this, maybe pursuing a little revenge for the woes he had put her and her husband through in such little time, but instead she merely asked him for time before their inevitable executions.

Adriant and Bermudez had been staring each other down. Bermudez was stubborn and refused to calm down, but he couldn't help as his temper simmered under the moonlight from the crack in the ceiling. Adriant had almost forgotten the two prisoners were there if it were not for Farah grunting as she tried to break free of her restraints once more. Adriant broke from his glare to approach the two.

"King Adriant, I can only assume from a civilized and fair king such as yourself, you would grant us once last time alone?"

"You assume correctly, girl." He sighed. He then turned away and whistled for his bodyguards and soldiers to follow like dogs. And like loyal dogs, they obeyed. Some even wagged their tails and perked their ears. The two men inside the cell exited and Farah stopped them.

"May you release these restraints on me?"

The two men looked at their superior, who nodded in approval. They went over to her and released her. She gripped one of her wrists, rubbing it. She then switched off.

Adriant then left the room with his pets and King Bermudez started off with them before looking back at the two. Farah was staring at the Prince, who shuddered and shivered and whimpered quietly. He opened his mouth to speak but cold air spewed out. He lowered his once high head and walked out of the first section of the dungeon area.

Farah still looked at the Prince, just looking. She wanted to run to him but in a strange way, she feared him. She feared the dark side of him, but cherished that side more than his normal self. She felt that the tortured soul inside of him needed nurturing and love, and that deep down it actually was capable of returning said love and nurture. Watching him shiver and pain, she pondered if she should just leave him there for a while; let him be tortured like the pale twinkle in his eye of the Dark Prince's essence.

She ran to him, grabbing his arm and helping him steady himself on his feet. He panted into her shoulder, specks of warm water hitting her. He tried to gain composure, but the excess time in the water filled crypt drained him, and not only him but his hidden curse and talent alike.

They stumbled over to the concrete bench that connected to the wall like the water bowl did. He leaned against her, muttering something through his weakness.

"What did you say?"

He said it again but it was still too low and his shivering mouth was unreadable. She leaned in closer.

"I'm sorry." He repeated.

"Sorry for what?"

"Do you still love me?"

"Prince, I will always love you."

"No, no I mean are you still in love with me?"

"What-what is this about?"

"…Do you think we're going to die?"

"We will someday."

"No, you know what I mean, I mean now."

"We may."

The Prince shifted his head on her shoulder. "It's not my fault. It's this thing inside of me."

"I know, I know."

"I love our son, I love him. I do. But this corruption eating away at me…this flesh eating _disease_ that's devouring my skin and soul alike…it's making me crave war, crave blood, desire death and heads on wooden stakes. I mean, the mere thought of it waters my mouth as if I was staring at the grandest of foods, this isn't right?"

"Why did you keep this a secret from me…again?"

The Prince turned to look at her. He had no answer.

"I mean…we could have gotten through it together, we could have beaten this demon, yet the real demon thrived and survived in not telling me…I can't…" She tilted her head away from his. He immediately felt the cold distance returning to haunt him, to shackle and chain him up. He lifted his head and turned her face to his by her chin, ever gently.

"Sand fills my lungs, I cannot tell you why, because I do not know the reason. It was not shame. At least I'm sure it wasn't. Maybe I was trying to protect you both, from thinking I'm some kind of monster…I don't know."

Farah began to speak but he interrupted.

"Maybe…maybe this flesh eating disease would eat away the skin at my chest and you could see my heart. It beats, for you and for Sana."

"First of all, it is not a 'flesh eating disease', it is you. It is you, Prince. Second, believe it or not, I have a beating heart as well. It is not cold and it is not black, and most of all, it still bleeds."

All was silent but the Prince's heavy breathing and the dripping of water from the ceiling to the puddle on the floor.

"And you've never checked the other side of your chest. _That_ side is the side that does not beat for me and Sana. It pumped blood to receive it not by the veins that lie within you, but the blood of fallen foes. I feel you would lick your blade after slaughtering children." She began to tear up.

"Do you think I would harm you and Sana? Do you think that I would love to see the world a scorched piece of paper lying at the Devil's feet? I am hurting! I am hurting! Do you know the times at night I felt I should kill us three just to avoid the pain of a reality that I cannot change? I cannot change _any_ of this, Farah!"

"You're scaring me."

"…Just slit our throats to a lullaby you sing to him through bloody teeth!"

"Stop it!"

The Prince was standing now, pacing back and forth. Farah was bawling in tears, emotion that had been seen as rarely as a glimpse of a merciful God. The Prince walked over to a wall, he lightly hit his head against it.

"Control yourself…" She muttered to him.

He swung back around, looking at her in disbelief.

"Control myself? Deny myself the release of rage I've had pent up for so long? Even when all seemed to be right, I still lay in bed at night and…well, you know my thoughts. And now this completely random Razgod squandering fool turns my life upside down and makes it worse? Makes it worse? Don't you tell me to control myself when I am! I am controlling myself! Just keeping that wisecracking fool from taking over me is control enough and I feel that slipping away as well!"

Her voice remained calm and quiet after she finished her wailing. "You're yelling."

"Am I really? I thought I was laughing." He sighed.

"You…" She began. She took a deep breath and then continued. "You asked me if I was in love with you, yes, the answer is yes."

He sat down next to her again. His head fell onto her lap. In her fear, she gripped the ends of the bench she sat on, trying to distance herself from him as far as she could while remaining completely still. So obviously it was futile.

"That man, Adriant, he was right. I am a monster. I am a monster that loved war. I don't love you, Farah. I don't love our son…and you don't love me. You can't love a monster, especially if you're a monster yourself."

As if lifted from her like a purged curse, she felt no more fear, only sympathy. She took the Prince's head in her hands and hugged him as tight as she ever did. "We're both monsters." She whispered into his ear. "We love each other."

The Prince couldn't hold back his tears any longer, and they drained from his eyes. The tears from his right eye drizzled over the bridge of his nose, tickling. But in his tenderness, it felt like pins and needles more than a playful tickle. The tears from his left eye ran down his face and down her leg. Farah whispered things into his ear, words that comforted him whenever he was down. She always did it, and it always made them feel as close as ever. She hushed him as he sobbed. She brushed his hair with her hand and she rubbed his head.

"I want our boy." He said through choked tears. He hated to cry. He found no sense in adding melodramatics to a situation no matter how intense it was. He exercised control more than he knew, but that night, he lost more control than he would have ever expected. He gasped. All air in his lungs withdrew further into his body, where heat and Hell bubbled. He went limp in her lap and arms, seemingly dead or paralyzed. She shook him, frightened even more than she was already. He got up quick, nearly flying off of her. He grabbed her shoulders and flung her into the bars, trying to help her regardless of the rough action.

"Go…leave…" He groaned in immense pain.

"Why?"

"Go, go!"

He ground his knuckled into the wet ground, his eyes wild and wide, a scorching yellow that burned and pierced the darkness in the cell. The night screamed in agony and pain, it had never experienced the force of the sun. Light belonged to the day.

Farah watched in silent horror, her back pressed against the bars, watching the Prince transform into an even more transparent version of him. He doubled up and held his stomach, he then held his sides. And then all light was sucked from the room, as if the eyeless, tongue-rattling creature from the underground resurrected like a phoenix from the ashes of a dead darkness. Farah was blind as she called out for her fellow tortured love. A break of light came and burned in his sweltering eyes, his teeth wide and grinning. He gripped her by the neck, dangling her a few feet from the ground. She choked and whined under his perfect grip, her feet kicked and her hands pried, but nothing saved her. She tried calling out to him, to her true Prince, but no savior came to her desperate beckoning. He tilted his head. He was observing the way her eyes nearly popped out of her head, how they became a blood red, and how he thought that was so attractive. Blood dripped from inside her closed mouth, dry tears came from her wide, frightened eyes.

"I don't want to hurt you." The Dark Prince whispered. "I just can't control myself." He continued half serious and half teasing the conversation she had with his alter-ego.

He then took his free hand and gripped her arm. He turned and flung her to the ground. She withered on the ground as if on fire. She gasped for breath and it came, but slowly…slowly.

He put his foot on her chest as Adriant did. "You love a monster…" He chuckled, ignoring the shouts and yells inside his head. He drew his sword and looked at her.

She looked at him, fearing what he would do. She thought…she thought he loved…slowly…slowly.

**A/N-Yes, I know Farah's being very finicky as of late, analyzing her feelings between the Prince and the Dark Prince, and I know you're all on the fence about the Dark Prince's feelings for her back, keep wondering. ;) Oh, and I'm sorry for the Prince being an angsty, sobbing mess in this chapter. This is the most intense chapter yet, and I couldn't have controlled the conversation that they had if I tried. They took on a life of their own, as always.**

**Update: Chapter 17 "Love & Monsters" has already gone under construction, it will be up in under two weeks time hopefully. It is also planned to be the longest chapter to date, to make up for all of the short spurt scenes.**


	17. Love & Monsters

Chapter 17 "Love & Monsters"

Farah choked. Everything was blurry, not a drunken haze but maybe the last thing she'll ever see. The Dark Prince lightened his weight on her, but not completely lifting up his foot. He observed here closely, under a golden microscope. He looked at her with sympathy, a stark contrast with his mannerisms of the night. He could hear Farah's whimpers in the otherwise quiet cell. Time had stopped. Even the dripping of the water had ceased to continue. Only he and Farah existed.

He lifted his foot off of her. She writhed around on the ground, barely able to grasp her neck, which was nearly crushed. He stood over her, a predator to a broken fawn. After a few moments, she was able to breathe better, but only a little. She looked up at him, into the two suns. The word that circled the murky pools of her mind was merely _why_, _why_?

"I thought we needed you." He whispered. It was too low for her to hear, but it wasn't really intended for her anyway. "But all you've done is make us _both_ weak, emotional. You must be done away with. I'm sorry…I think."

He knelt down and brushed the back of his hand along the fragile strands of her long hair. His knuckled touching the fine, silk blades gently. His knuckles bled from where they were ground into the concrete floor. He bled black. Farah turned her face away, cracking sobs finding their way through the convoluted maze that was her shattered throat.

King Bermudez paced his halls, back and forth, back and forth. He slithered like a snake down the reconstructing stairs and back up. If he could, he would have scaled the walls, pulling the hair under his crown out. Under pressure, especially as of late, he felt that his crown was made of thorns, pricking and cutting his scalp. He bled, shed tears, and sweated for not only his own individual kingdom, but the whole country, at least in his eyes. To him, he carried the weight of the universe on his shoulders, and his cowardice since the ransacking of his kingdom _had_ to be external…right?

Words tried to craft the hot, malleable air that was as pliable as clay. But it hardened like if under a cool breeze and his mouth rand dry. His burning eyes set deep into his crusty, charred sockets. He went from kneeling to sitting. His hand still stroked her face and hair, and she kept her face turned to the damp ground.

"What the hell have you done? Is she okay? Will she be okay?"

"Keep quiet, Prince. All is well."

"How can I keep quiet, you've taken over my body and nearly killed my wife!"

"Oh dear Prince, I know what I'm doing. I was wrong before, we don't need her. She only makes things complicated, makes me feel strange."

"It's a thing called love."

"Don't make me puke. Seriously, it's all oily and black."

"Please…now is not the time for jokes."

"You're right. It's time for her to die."

"Wait!"

Before the Prince could seek to reason with his "shadow", it had already gripped the sword in its hand tighter. He grabbed Farah's hair and jerked her head up, making her shout in fear and pain. This pain spiraled through her brain like a red, sticky whirlpool draining all brave thoughts. She begged for life under her breath, and she begged for mercy. Then her thoughts turned to her true Prince, and she begged for love. Inside of her attacker, he was declaring his love for her with shrieking wails that hurt the Dark Prince's ears. He could hear all too well but she was deaf to his cries.

He held her head back with one hand and put the blade to her overexposed neck with the other. He saw the caramel skin, the pulsing veins in them. He could feel the silkiness of her hair as he moved it around in his dangerous fingers. He quickly put his face close to hers, making her flinch and whine a bit more. He sniffed her deeply, nearly sucking her soul out of her left ear. She was scared. She had no idea what he was going to do. Did he love her? Did he want her dead? Was it complexly both? He stuck his tongue out and ran it from bottom to top on her warm cheek. The coldness of it grossed her out. His actions made her uncomfortable to say the least and she wondered what happened to the Dark Prince that was in the trap chambers so long ago, the one that saved her life, the one that showed compassion.

He set the blade flat against her neck, so it was impossible to cut. He tried to look into her brown eyes, but she closed them as soon as she saw two suns that refused to go down. He didn't try to make her open them. He didn't force her to do anything as he watched her intently. She sat very still...she didn't want to alarm him of anything. And she even thought slowly…slowly…. The din inside of him kept roaring with anger and fear, but he still ignored it with impeccable concentration. In an instant, his cracked lips were against her soft, rich ones. Her eyes were wide with surprise, and now he was able to finally see the brown jewels she had concealed. They stared into each other's eyes throughout the kiss, and it was a shock she didn't go blind at the bright sight.

Low growls came from him. It was like as if he was actually…angry…confused? The kiss wasn't torture, as it may seem. His lips weren't as wrong as they should have felt, Farah seemingly enjoyed it, and not just because the lips still _were_ her husband's.

His eyes narrowed and she was able to see. When she closed her eyes, she could still see the burnt echoed image of suns with fire-frosted eyelashes in the darkness of her corneas. He turned the blade to where it was perilous now, and he intended to do bad things. Farah became a blur to him. A swirling, turning…blur…He let her hair go and he stood up. His skin seemed to disintegrate, his fire seemed to extinguish. Soon, the Prince's voice was deafening and the drip of the water from the ceiling was boisterous to no end.

He nearly toppled over. He leaned against the bars. His breath became labored. His words still couldn't form anything from the air. He stumbled back over to her, and he fell down to one knee. He pulled her head back up, and finally spoke to the voice inside of him.

"This must be done, Prince, without her we will be strong!"

The Prince shouted the angriest words ever spewed from his mouth.

"Think about it, Prince! Make it only the two of us and stealth will be easier, travel will be faster, equipment will be lighter, and the mission will heighten in importance. We've both been sidetracked by the likes of this girl, and that must end."

He began to cut her throat slowly. She whimpered and begged again, wishing for her mother, for her father, her brother…Her fingernails scrapped at the ground, her feet tried to find a footing.

"I don't like change, and all she has brought us is change. She's even changed me. The way I think, the way I act, I despise it." He stopped the cutting, and looked at the pure dread on her face. It was so beautiful. "The status quo must never change. If it changes, then the word becomes obsolete." He resumed his cutting.

His winced and his hand tightened against the handle. He let it go and he stood once again, stumbling against the wall. "Just think of Sana…think how powerful he would be in the grand scheme of things…he would be more powerful than you, than me! He would be a god."

Farah took hold of the sword and drew it from her neck. She instantly covered her neck with her hands and rolled over onto her back, looking into the crack where the moonlight shone.

"I need…sand…damn it…" The Dark Prince muttered…sliding down the wall into unconsciousness.

King Bermudez ran into the room. He approached the cell with a key. "You two, I've got an escape route…oh…" He beheld the bloody, dark mess. Two immobilized beings near death in his kingdom. He unlocked the cell and ran to "stunning Farah" as he referred to her as, and began to pick her up from the cold, wet ground where she was not ready to embrace ever charming Death.

**On the Seas **

Razgod looked out from the bow into the murky sea, a sea where any creature may lurk, a shark, an octopus, or something even fiercer. He may have been looking for recruitment for all his crewmates knew, a theory which made him even more vile and intimidating. His long, black beard glistened with the water that splashed from the sea. The red bandanna around his forehead concealed twenty daggers that were all stolen from fallen enemies, as well as the ten shared between each of his dirty boots.

Much of his crew lounged inside of the ship, drowning their brains in whiskey as they proceeded to boaster of stories on the high seas that they most likely made up.

Razgod lifted his hand, and it began to shake. The water from the darkness of a different, aquatic universe came into view and halted in front of him. It began to morph itself into whatever was on his mind. The shape became bigger, and more of a humanoid than anything. Soon, Bermudez's face and shape could be made out. He lowered his hand and looked at the creation he composed. The creature had a scared, pleading look on its face, and Razgod had an eerie smile on his. He drew his cutlass and slashed the sea creature by the throat, making it splash back into an inanimate puddle of water at his feet. He sheathed the cutlass and looked behind him at the smoldering empire he once ruled. He could hear screaming and shouts of the people he ruled. Children could be heard burning. The bubbling of their flawless, innocent skin and the torture of their souls pleased him to no end. He had set this fire himself. The biggest fire ever seen in mankind thrust down upon a trusting kingdom. He felt no need to keep such a small empire if he was only waiting to expand to farther horizons.

A member of his crew came up from inside the sailing ship, sober and thinking, probably the only one. He approached with a concerned look on his face.

"Sir, sir!" He shouted, hurrying over.

Razgod turned to him with narrow eyes. "Yes, Rodriguez?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but…I can't forget what just happened. I had family back there…and we just killed them off like they were nothing."

"Did you stick a blade in your son's stomach? Set fire to your daughter while she slept?"

Rodriguez grimaced at even the thought. "No sir…another man did that."

"Then why are you feeling guilty? You did nothing, to think of it. You ran here to the ship while we burned everything."

"I don't know…"

"You can go back and see if your wife is still living, you can go save her."

"How will I get there and back?" He asked, turning to the empire.

"Oh, easy." Razgod answered, drawing his cutlass and stabbing Rodriguez in the back. "You won't be coming back." He said into the stunned man's ear, then using his foot to kick the man from his sword and plunge him into the dark water where he was never seen again. No one ever asked where he was either.

**Bermudez's Kingdom**

The king dragged Farah away from the cell. The Dark Prince lay slumped against the wall. When he got Farah safely out, he went over to the Dark Prince and, with difficulty, dragged him away as well. He let go of the Dark Prince and went over to Farah. He flung her over his shoulder so he could use both hands for the other. Soon, some of his men found him and they helped him with the heavy slack.

They made it silently into the Grand Hall which was nearly fully rebuilt. They all made their way for the front door as quietly as they could manage. King Adriant ran to them from deeper inside and all of his army that was indoors followed him. Nearly four-hundred men stood behind him, armed. King Bermudez let go of the Dark Prince's arms and drew his sword. The three men beside him put down Farah gently and drew their own weapons.

"I can't let you go, Bermudez, you know this."

"That, I do."

"Then where were you trying to take them? Did you not remember the thousands of soldiers I have outside? Did you really think I would let you escort them out of here?"

"No, that's why I have help."

Bursting through the front door came fifty more of Bermudez's men, and then one hundred more came from the rafters, and those were only civilians who had formed a militia. Behind them came many of Bermudez's soldiers that were ready for battle.

Adriant shook his head in disbelief. "Can you not see what that thing is, Marcelo? It is one of them, one of them that destroyed our land, stole our children!"

"He is not one of them. He's just run into a bit of bad luck."

"Well my men know how to get rid of a spell of bad luck, since you won't listen to reason."

"And neither will you."

Adriant bowed, his blue cape-esque outfit flowing. "To the victor the spoils…"

"…of the other's life." His friend and foe continued for him, bowing himself.

Adriant looked to his thousands of men, and Bermudez did his. They stared each other down and both declared charge. In the already bloody commotion, Bermudez ordered one of his men to take Farah and the disintegrating Dark Prince into the study room. The soldier did as told. King Bermudez watched them exit the battle scene before he was tackled to the pearly floor by Adriant.

A soldier on the left balcony clad in gold clashed with a civilian of Bermudez's empire. The soldier elbowed the civilian in the face twice before he broke his nose with the butt of the sword. The stunned civilian held his nose as Adriant's soldier took him by the trousers and the back of his knee and tossed him over the white railing, plummeting him to the Grand Hall floor, where the other soldiers fought. He looked down from the railing before a soldier came from behind him and tossed him over as well, the soldier screaming on his way down.

The soldier in the study room set Farah and the Dark Prince up against a wall that was covered by pillows. He saw Farah's wound on her neck and he wrapped a piece of cloth from a pillow that he had cut off around her neck, impeding the endless talk of her blood.

The two kings rumbled around on the floor, exchanging punches and chokes. They finally were able to break free of one another and stand, only to ignite a spark with the collision of their sharp steel. They drew close as their blades dulled under one another and then Adriant kicked away Bermudez.

A civilian on the right balcony who held a torch let his fellow friend drop oil onto a group of golden clad soldiers before he dropped his own weapon, lighting the screaming men. Their armor melted into their skin, making their deaths as painful and prolonged as the third-degree fire would allow.

Outside, thousands of soldiers battled one another, and thousands more lay in the sand under their feet. The moon had done its duty and dawn was underway, but no one was tired, no one dared think of rest.

Bermudez spit out blood that collected in his mouth, only to be punched by Adriant again. Bermudez ran for the stairs and Adriant thought he was running. He grabbed one of his soldier's spears and threw it at Bermudez, which missed. Bermudez resumed his battle stance on the left balcony, waiting for Adriant, who had quickly made his way up after him. The two clashed swords again as their men dyed for a cause in the middle of the Grand Hall, where Bermudez's statue crumbled to useless rock under the controlled waterfall.

The two battled and threw each other against walls. Adriant seemed to gain the upper hand when he slammed Bermudez's head against the red-colored window. Adriant put his sword to Bermudez's stomach. An arrow flew in the sky and hit Adriant's right arm, which forced him to lower his weapon and shout. Bermudez yelled a war cry and bear hugged Adriant. He then went running towards the window, sending them both falling feet and feet and feet into the crimson blood of the fallen and the shadows of martyrs and soldiers who only had blood on their minds.

Everyone stopped their fighting as they watched Adriant and Bermudez slowly get up and resume their brawl. The two fought like a cat and dog, with literally scratching and biting. Adriant used his left hand to fight and he slashed his foe's leg lightly. King Bermudez responded by cutting Adriant's ear. Bermudez took Adriant again and threw them both to the sandy ground. It was a grand spectacle to behold, two friends of two once powerful kingdoms kill each other like two Roman gladiators in an arena for spectators to watch in awe.

Adriant kicked his enemy of the day away again. "Marcelo, are we not done here?"

"Neither of us is dead!"

"Can you not see the-" Adriant was tackled once again by Bermudez, who then proceeded to rain punches down upon him. He then went to his sword that had fell and he mounted Adriant again, putting the blade to his face. Adriant's men tried to come for him but he ordered them to stop. He knew when he was defeated. He breathed heavy, looking at the blade so close to him. He then looked to his friend, and then to the awakening sun.

Adriant and Bermudez rested in the study room, both slouching in leisure chairs. They were both tended to by their respective soldiers and civilians, given medication and wrapped wounds. Farah was repeatedly given cups of water to soothe her and her husband, who was normal again, was bind by rope on his wrists.

"You spared my life, Marcelo. I can't sit here and not wonder why."

"You are my friend, it's that simple."

"But-"

"It's that simple."

Adriant sighed, looking at Farah and the Prince. "He's not harmless."

"He's not harmful, either. Not right now, at least. He helped us in the Rashid War, remember that?"

"I do."

"He is a friend, just he suffers from a curse."

"We all suffer from a curse, it's called life."

"Bermudez winced at the stitches being put into his stomach, and then he took a sip of tea. "What was all this for, hmm?"

"I-I just want my son back."

"As do I, Steren, as do I."

Steren Adriant looked at the green swirls in his tea. "I miss him, I miss his smile, you know? And his innocent laugh. His mother used to love taking him to the ocean through the thick forests. She never liked the deserts, even though they were so many of them." He chuckled.

"We all miss our children, even the Prince and Farah here. That's why they're here, for my help."

Adriant breathed heavy and sunk deeper into the chair.

"We'll talk more about this later." Bermudez began, and then he looked to the two on the pillows. "First we should get them to a room to rest."

Farah lay on the floor, leaning against the bed while the Prince sat on a chair across from her. She didn't take her eyes off of him, her trembling eyes and trembling body under a blanket. The Prince looked at her, feeling the fear and confusion sent his way.

"Are you okay?"

She didn't answer, but she turned her eyes down."

"Please tell me you're okay."

"I'm okay." She managed to say through her pain, clearing her throat.

"You don't have to fear me."

"You attacked me. I declared my love for you and you attacked me."

"I am not him, I am not him, Farah. I am cursed, I am diseased." He rambled, tears brimming in his eyes.

"You are him, Prince! This is who you are, and how I tried to convince myself of otherwise was just foolish!" She shouted at him, her voice cracking. She began to cough heavily and the Prince began to get up but she put up her index finger that stopped him. "No, no, don't…come any closer."

His eyes narrowed.

"You choked me, and then sliced my throat. Was this to silence me? Is my voice such a nuisance?"

"Farah…"

"No…no, don't. You can sleep in here tonight, Prince, but it will be a cold bed."

"I won't ask for forgiveness because it is a fool's pleasure."

"Love is a fool's pleasure, hope is as well."

"I told you I was a monster…I can't control him anymore, I just…can't."

"And I told you I was too. You must be a monster to love one."

"Do you still love me?"

"Didn't you ask me that before you tried to kill me?"

"It wasn't-Yes, I did. But things have drastically changed."

"I'm too scared to answer."

The Prince stood up and Farah gasped. "No, no." He began. "Untie me, please."

She looked at him as if he was crazy.

"Trust me, Farah. Trust…"

The words echoed through the silent room. _Trust_…

She slowly got up, keeping the blanket around her shoulders. She walked over to him and drew his empty dagger, cutting his restraints. She retreated back to the side of the bed, looking up at him with dormant fear. He slowly walked to her, pulling the frayed ropes from his wrists. He walked over to her and fell to his knees. He looked at her for a while, admiring her beauty. He reached for the blanket covering her but she tensed up, holding the covers tight. "It's alright, okay? It's alright." He said to her, putting his hand slowly on the little blanket. Her hands gradually let go of the blanket as he slid it away. He swallowed hard. He brushed his hair away from his face. He grabbed her leg, and she tensed up again. He looked up at her, and he kissed her leg. And he kissed it again, and again, gradually going up. He brought himself to her lips and they kissed a kiss with purer purpose than his "shadow". He could feel her trembling under him. He could feel her fear. She loosened up soon and she began to kiss him back, her tongue against his. She was sobbing softly into his mouth. He could no longer feel her fear, but her sadness. It hurt her that she was so close to him, yet so very far…away. He knew that no matter how hard he crushed his lips against hers, no matter how much he tried to radiate love, it would not happen for them. The connection they once felt had died. And it had died long before their kingdom was even attacked.

He lifted her up onto the bed, and she moved herself to sit on the jeweled pillows. He brought himself onto the bed and he hovered above her. She felt as vulnerable as ever. She was a little girl again, and he was a boogeyman draining all good dreams from her. She was a teenager, and he was the first love she had ever experienced, whispering in her ear sweet nothings and empty promises. She was a woman, and he was the strong man to protect her, her savior. He took off his shirt and it floated to the floor by the blanket. She studied him as he drew closer. He kissed her again and he realized she never did stop trembling. He let her rest against the pillows as he took off her red shirt. He then reached below and disrobed her skirt. She was naked and more vulnerable than before, physically and mentally. He was as scared as her now, though he had seen her like this time and time before. This was different, this was sacred.

**On the Seas**

Razgod walked through the interior of the ship, walking to the "nursery" where all the king's babies lay. He told his men who followed him to exit. He then walked to them individually, checking on them, picking at them. The last one he visited was Sana, who was asleep in a makeshift crib. Razgod slapped the baby awake, smiling when he began to cry.

**A/N-I didn't go into detail with the sex scene between the Prince and Farah, to retain the T rating. In this chapter I was on the fine line as it is. If requested, I will write more into it maybe as an additional outake after the story is finished, or I will write a prequel or sequel to this story that has an M rating. **


	18. A Dance for a Devil and Story for a King

**A/N-A rebab is a form of a violin popular in Iranian (or at the time, Persian) traditional musical culture. A tonbak is a "goblet drum" used in the same culture. **

**Snowden's Jig by Carolina Chocolate Drops is the song I visualized in the beginning scene and I tried to depict it as well I could with the instruments that existed back then. You might wanna listen to this song while reading the beginning scene.**

Chapter 18 "A Dance for the Devil and a Story for the King"

Topless women danced seductively around the ship, much to the approval of the crew. They danced slowly, sensually. The candles in the middeck only added to the heat. A group of musicians in the back played traditional music while dancing, drinking, and gambling all went on under the mystique of the night. The musicians watched the dancers as they played their flutes and banged on their goblet drums called Tonbaks with perfect rhythm. Riddled with rubies and sapphires on the outskirts of the drum, were sometimes hit with the drummer's metal rings to add certain zest to the sound. One of the dancers winked at a flute player and he nearly lost his track. She grinned and walked over to a drunken pirate and began to dance over his lap. The women were moving, bronze statues. Perfectly sculpted Persian goddesses, while Razgod and his crew happened to be something else. The women were captured slaves.

Razgod slowly walked through the crowded party, eyeing everything from breasts to empty liquor bottles. He was an overseer of a dance for demons. And who was to dance with the Devil? He walked around to the women, examining their face and their bodies, always walking away with a sinister grin on his face or a disgusted grimace. One of the dancers swore she saw a sharp tail swing from him as he walked away, and another woman saw horns sprout from his head, pushing his red hat away to float to the wooden floorboards.

"Women, all of you Persian sluts. Attention." He hissed, clasping his hands together and smiling. "Who wants to dance tonight?"

The women were nameless…faceless to him. The women all continued dancing, shying their eyes to the dark floor. He shook his head and grinned. How dare these peasants not answer him? How dare they defy his word? He had their lives hanging from his fingers like strings of a puppet. So he decided to find his own answer. He spotted and grabbed a random girl who stood in the corner and hadn't danced all night. The Devil brought her close to him. He could smell the sweat underneath her perfume swell up, her nervousness, and her fear. It was obvious she had never been to Hell before. Why did he order for her to be topless as the others? She had barely anything to give. The poor girl was nothing over sixteen. She even looked younger than fifteen. The Devil intertwined their fingers together and began to drag her around the floor dancing. She let herself be dragged around a while before he grew annoyed. "Pick up your feet, darling girl." He whispered to her in a demanding voice. Her face tightened up as she continued to let her feet be dragged. He squeezed her hands hard. "Pick up your feet." He ordered again, and she finally did as told.

"Tell me, girl. Have you ever danced with the Devil before?"

"من با شیطان هرگز رقصید"

The Devil twisted his face in confusion, having no idea what she said. He continued to dance with her, obviously the only one having fun. The rest of the women began to dance again, extremely close to the other pirates. He snatched his hands away from hers and she gasped. Quickly, he set his hands to her hips and she brought her arms around his neck and they continued. The music had grown more enigmatic, more dark and moody, but it had not lost its distinct sexiness. Every once in a while the dancers would look at the little girl and Razgod. They were worried about her, though didn't say a word the whole night. Step, step, step, step, twirl, twirl, step, step, wink, grin, step…wink, growl, step, step, step…

The lead two musicians played their Rebab so intensely their fingers were cut by the very fine strings. Some of the dancers were taken to back rooms led by the pirates. Others were stuck to watch the Devil dance with and corrupt an innocent step by step, twirl by twirl. One of the crewmen threw a pair of dice on a makeshift board made from hardened dirt and copper. The dice flew from the board, though, and slipped in between the cracks in the wood. The pirate was in for it, seeing as all the others gathered around sighed and hit him upside his head. They all looked for something else to do, and they found that entertainment in bottles and bottles of rum. Many more candles were lit around the ship since the smell of vomit had begun to reveal itself. The candles saved the party and the regurgitation was quickly cleaned up by male slaves that were brought up from the very bottom decks. The decks were water seeped in and sometimes piranhas found their way in, depending on the area.

The music died down for a minute before the second song would begin. Razgod, the Devil, twirled the girl one more time before stopping. She breathed heavy and fell back into a chair to relax. He eyed her for a while more, just hoping she would sell her soul to him. He grabbed her wrist and began to lead her up the stairs to his bedroom quarters. She tried to pull back but he was too strong. As she was dragged away, she looked to her fellow dancers, who now had reason to worry.

**Bermudez's Kingdom**

"Here I am, in the embrace of an enemy. An enemy and a spouse. What was I thinking? Making love to a man who not a day ago tried to silence me forever? Choked me until I couldn't even beg for mercy? Why did I need to beg for mercy as it is? This is my husband, not my murderer. But I do feel comfortable in his arms, if only I felt the same when he's awake. I just had the saddest dream, another dream I was a little girl, but Sana was there, as an adult. Our roles were switched, I was the one being kidnapped from my kingdom along with my brother. Sana was the one who we needed to save us…but didn't."

Farah awoke slowly, turning herself in the Prince's arms. She soon realized exactly whose arms she was in and she removed them from around her waist, getting up from the bed. The rising sun gleamed throughout the room. She walked over to the door and turned back to the Prince. He was dead asleep, drool dripping from his mouth. She sighed and slipped on through. The quiet slap of her feet against the marble tile echoed throughout the hallway she walked down, emphasizing how desolate it was. Where was everyone? She continued down the hallway until she heard chatter coming from the huge library where she had slept and had a nightmare. It was an argument. She walked closer to the room and set her ear to the conversation as she hid. Her throat began to hurt again from the day before and she cleared it as best she could without being noticed.

"I know you want your boy back, but we must be patient and find a way."

Adriant walked to a window and looked out, his hands folded behind his back. "I know a way."

"And what is that?"

"William and his kingdom."

"I highly doubt that it's untouched by Razgod."

Adriant spun around, strange excitement in his eyes. "It doesn't matter, his army is plentiful, strong, especially when attacked. Or a better word, provoked. They are stronger when they are weak, if that makes sense."

"I don't remember much from when I visited there a few years ago. I only can visualize that damn arena that stood in the middle of the city. It was in the _middle_ of the city, next to the food merchants and nurseries. The area always smelled of blood…"

"William might not have a good sense of location, but that arena has bred some of the world's most dangerous killers. It's also been the only arena for twenty years non-European. I myself have sent some of my men to spar there, many have not come back. I have gotten a few limbs, though." He said, chuckling. "But the ones that have come back are always the bread winners in my skirmishes. To be honest, dear friend, I'm still wondering how your army bested mine."

Both men laughed.

"Well anyway, what do you propose about the arena?"

"I propose we send the Prince there, breed him, test his skills to see if he's truly the one who helped us and abandoned us back in Rackshid."

"Have you any word of Garrad?"

"No, I haven't heard anything from him personally and no messenger has been sent my way." Adriant answered, drinking a cup of water.

"Hmm. I think the Prince has proved his worth already, he's done things you can't even imagine."

"The Arena will be the judge of that. And the best part, no one needs his consent to compete. A gladiator is a gladiator. I once heard a story about a little, tiny boy many, many years ago who was put in the arena against a lion, a bear, and an elephant. The boy was smart enough to catch a mouse in his cell the night before and stow it away until the fight. He let the mouse go once the fight began. The bear and the lion both ran after the mouse, by the way, it was a big mouse. Anyway, they both ran after the mouse. The elephant was scared, as are all elephants in such a situation. The elephant blew its trunk and wailed and hollered, raising its hands high in the air. Neither the lion nor the bear got the big mouse before it got far away. The elephant inadvertently came down on the two animals and crushed them with its massive hands. The bear survived but the lion's head was mush. The boy, with a rock, ran to the bear and mounted it. He smashed its face in with the rock over and over until the bear was also dead. Now by this time a spectator had thrown in a spear to aid the boy. The spectator was then killed by the crowd but that's beside the point. The elephant chased the boy to the spear. The boy picked it up and stabbed the elephant multiple times. The skin on the colossal beast was too thick for this, so the strikes had little to no effect. The boy was about to cry, before he saw the roar of the crowd, boasting him or booing him. It didn't matter whether they were cheers or jeers to him, it was just the matter of the adrenaline. The boy gained rage from deep within. He waited for the elephant to stampede by, and he jumped to the side of the elephant and stabbed it in the flabby ear. This harmed the elephant but it didn't do much, but this wasn't the boy's intent. He used the wooden stick part to swing up on top of the beast's head. A young William and his new bride at the time sat up high as they watched. They looked on with intent, or amazement, I can't remember what the storyteller told me. But back to the story, the boy, with the rock still in tow, hit the elephant in both of its eyes repeatedly until the animal was blind. He jumped off of the animal and let it stampede around, panicking. It went into the crowd, crushing men and women alike. Blood sputtering and heads popping like grapes on a vine. This prompted the guards nearby to rush into the arena and put down the elephant themselves with handmade explosives. Technically, the boy won, and William was so impressed he let the boy live and join the roster of his gladiators. I hear to this day he's become the strongest and most feared gladiator to date."

"What was he in there for? I am sure it wasn't voluntary."

"His parents were European, they illegally entered the nation and sold themselves in stories as citizens, though they were spies. The parents soon were found out and murdered on the spot where they were uncovered. The boy, viewed as innocent and indirectly involved, was given the chance to fight for his life in the arena."

"It sounds to me like you want to get the Prince killed."

Adriant sighed. "I just want the best for Razgod. He deserves only the best."

"Anything more you can tell me about this boy?"

"You mean man. Strange thing, he often wears masks of one of the animals he battled that fateful day. Sometimes a silver elephant, sometimes a golden bear, or sometimes a golden lion engraved with the saying "My name is Legion, for we are many. I'm not…quite sure where that saying is from. I think it's from a bible unfamiliar to us. He is European, after all."

Farah didn't notice it, but she was panting heavily. Her hands trembled, one at her side and the other holding the edge of the doorway wall. She removed her back from the wall and stopped her eavesdropping. She started walking but switched it to a run back to her room. Adriant heard her and began to chase. She reached her room and yelled for the Prince who still slept.

"Prince, Prince, you must wake up! We must leave, _now_!"

"What, what, what, what?" He repeated, still half asleep.

"They want us to basically kill you, you have to fight some…some…_legend_! I don't know! Get up, get up!" She shouted, shaking him.

Adriant reached the room, perking up his eyebrow. The blanket that Farah had wrapped around herself had fallen when she reached to wake her husband. She gasped and put it back to her, blushing through her natural tan. Adriant didn't try to hide the grin on his handsome face. The other king made his way into the room as well by this time."

Adriant wagged his finger at the girl. "Tsk tsk, now we can't have you both running off now." He joked. Bermudez bumped him and he sighed, relenting. "Seriously then, we can't have you leaving. Not yet, we need your husband's help. I know what you overheard, but we just need him strong, need him blood-thirsty."

Farah's throat hurt again from yelling. Pins and needles rotated fast in the flesh of her throat. "He is fast, he is strong, smart, and trust me, he is blood-thirsty."

"I don't think you'll be happy with my next words then, but before he goes against this 'legend' as you called him. I'll have him fight my best to ensure his survival against this…'legend'."

"Weren't-weren't your men trained in the same arena?"

Adriant sighed, seeing the fear in Farah's eyes. "Exactly. I just…want my son back. Bermudez here, Garrad, wherever he is, even William all want their sons. I doubt they would object to this, so why are you? Don't you want your son?"

Farah's eyes narrowed, her breath huffing. "I do!" She shouted, grabbing her throbbing throat afterwards. Looking at the waking Prince, she continued. "In fact, I may be the only one."


	19. Aeshma Daeva

Chapter 19 "Aeshma Daeva"

She hitched her breath into his ear, confident yet broken. He tried to look into her eyes, to get a sense of emotion, to feel her intensity, but her hair covered her face. Everything at that moment was frozen. All was too delicate to touch, too fragile to disturb. She was a masterpiece, begging and longing for him. As both had lost their faith in God, this was the closest to Heaven they had been in what seemed like forever and a day. He blew into her ear, and then began to nibble it. She finally turned to him, showing those scared brown eyes. Her soft, thin lips were slightly parted, showing glints of white teeth under the moon's light. Her eyes were narrow and observing. She was examining exactly what it was she was staring at, but she never got a definitive answer and was positive she never would. And when he brought his lips to hers, she didn't care anymore.

He brushed the knuckles of his hand slowly down her chest to her navel, and then began to rub her heaving stomach. She held him close, also brushing her hands across him. Instead of soft flesh like he found, she ran her timid fingers across a warzone of scars and gashes. Some deep and some shallow. Every scar had a story all its own, but she wanted to be his best story, his unending life's tale. She curled her fingers and quickly withdrew her hands. Her battle-torn lover gripped her wrists and brought them to her chest, still curled and protected. He took advantage of the little time her eyes would be open by boring into them. Reaching down, he kissed the caramel of her hands; still holding them firm in his own. As he expected, her eyes were closed again and she was lost to another world filled with impeccable sensations. He rubbed her breast and kissed her neck. Her hair wavered in the wake of his panting breath.

This mess of a man who was trying to hold in his sad melancholia and obsession couldn't form the words he wanted, and it frustrated him. This…this whole…thing…he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve her. He was a distant husband, a distant father. Alas, he was a product of his environment. He was a king trying to bring prosperity to a world that simply would not allow it. Every year, month, week, second, was a moment for war. It was a moment spent to rally troops, forge blades, forge alliances and bludgeon enemies. It was not a time for love. All lovers were hopeless and foolish, and all dreamers would die horribly and then forever be left to their useless dreaming. But a girl from diamonds and gold, in his eyes, wasn't ready to wed a war king's son. This is not the life she wanted. He feared…he dreaded that maybe…just maybe…she settled.

So he kissed her again, preventing himself from wailing in self loathing and impaling himself with the sword that lay under the bed. There was always a weapon nearby. Before he knew it, he was staring into her soul again. She looked at him with more love than he had ever witnessed before, but she still seemed afraid, and with good reason. He wondered if his eyes were a scorching yellow for her to look at him in such a way, but he knew he had absolute control that night. There was no denying her what she longed for. He slipped a hand under the gold-rimmed, dark crimson covers. The perfect girl caught air in her throat that she would not let escape. She would have melted otherwise. Love was inside her and she chose to be lost again, her eyes closed again. Only lashes brimmed with tears was visible. His hand moved inside her, it was slow and paced itself.

Her hands still balled into fists as her collarbone, tightening and tightening. He wondered if she thought of his darker side, the side that would be rough and merciless. What if she wanted that side? Maybe that's why he was so lustful for war, to impress a girl already his. He could never be sure. He thought of his dark side as Aeshma Daeva, the demon of lust and anger. What if he was a demon spawned for glory at the right end of the blade? He surely wouldn't be worthy of such an angel as he was inside right then, he would be corrupting her. The thought tore him mentally apart. So he left thought alone. She moaned his name through her fractured voice, as if someone had dropped it and it cracked. Fixed together by makeshift glue, her angelic voice was barely audible. Her hands loosened up where her medallion used to rest, and she came down back to earth through the clouds and sky of a Heaven she had begun to believe in again.

"You're gorgeous."

"I'm hideous." She whispered, grinning.

"I'm the hideous one." He thought, kissing away at her smooth leg. It hurt him so deeply to think that the love and peace they once had would never return. Just what was waiting for them in the future? What was the earth's plan? He often thought of drawing the magical dagger and freezing them in a time where their love was at a peak. A time like this, where Farah is completely satisfied, and he is only happy because she is. They would stay like this as the world passed them by. Sana would stay their baby forever safe in his crib, and they would be a family forever.

The Prince broke from euphoria through a shaky breath. Farah stared into his eyes.

"Were you having a bad dream?"

"More like a good memory."

Her lips thinned. She sighed and lowered her head. They stared at each other like hopeless romantics and forgot they were not alone. Adriant was an impatient man, but something possessed him to take himself away and drag Bermudez with him. Now they truly were alone. Their foreheads touched, exchanging warmth they yearned for. Farah giggled, thinking about how the Prince looked silly as he slept just then. "What's so funny?" The Prince asked, but she didn't respond. He blew into her ear and she groaned and playfully pushed him away. He clasped his hands together and sat on the bed as she removed strands of beauty from her face. She observed his facial features, scarred and damaged, like a king's face should look like, but not her king. If she could, she would wish this all away.

"They want you to be a gladiator."

The Prince asked, "Do they?", as he stared straight ahead.

"I'm scared for you."

"Don't be. I'll be fine as long as I have this _thing_ in me." He replied, drawing his deep set eyes to his hands, his tools of destruction.

"I still worry."

The Prince looked to her.

"I worry too. I worry about what I'll do next. I'm a monster, as they all say…even you."

She took a gentle approach to her neck, still bruised and making her voice raspy.

"Yeah…you know exactly what I mean."

She scooted closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I'm losing sight of a lot, Farah. All I can see is you and war. Most of the time I forget I have a child. I forget why I'm here. And I know you do the same. I feel this whole story, my whole story, is an inner battle. Do I deserve all I have or not. That's always the question and not even the voice inside my head gives an answer."

"You deserve all you have."

"And you deserve better."

"I am happy."

"You are content." He scoffed. "You're even losing that. Often times I think of my father. What would he think of me, Farah?"

Farah put her hand to his warm cheek. "You are honest and good."

"I don't deserve you. I never did. Yet you stayed."

"Yes…"

"Did I force you? Did I force you to stay?"

She removed her hand and looked at the window beyond them.

"I just wonder if you stayed because you felt if it wasn't me, it wasn't going to be anyone else."

"I don't fear being alone, Prince."

"You can't even look at me while you spew these lies."

"You don't understand, look outside."

The Prince took a deep breath, twisting himself and crawling over the sinking bed. Outside Adriant was getting his men ready to depart to the Arena kingdom.

"That's reassuring."

Farah smiled at his pessimism. "I don't know if I've told you this before. I have a strange feeling I have, but listen close. Of what use is reason against the power of love? Love is life, so if you want to live, die in love. Die in love if you want to stay alive."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The way I see it, don't try and find a reason to love me, just love me. Love me and never question it, for when you do, flaws and logic are found. Love cannot be logical, because the soul cannot be understood. Take it for what it is. If you must die, die for what you love, die with who you love, don't die for the sake of dying. Be a martyr for love, because your soul will live and love on even long after you can't."

The Prince smiled in an attempt to break the seriousness. "Are you telling me to go out there and die?"

Farah laughed. "I just thought you'd like it."

Her laugh was long awaited. It was long wanted. It had been so long since she laughed. It was a breath of fresh air.

She noticed his unusual gaze.

"What is it?"

"Just your smile, it's beautiful."

She drew in closer again and hugged him as they lay down on the bed.

"I don't deserve your embrace."

"Shut up."

_Here I am, in her loving arms once more. I cannot say how long this peace will last; I cannot say if this will be the last time we are together, I cannot say anything really. God, her hair smells amazing. I finally feel fine for once. My demons aren't at my throat for now, because she's protecting me. How strange to think of that? To think of a frail, small woman protecting me, a king, is absurd. But I would yell it to the treetops if I could. This moment is great, too great. It's perfect. Perfect is dangerous. So this cannot last, I won't allow it. It's better to severe the apple from the tree than wait for the tree to rot into the dirt. _

He could feel her shaking against his arm, maybe cold or scared. It seems he was protecting _her_ again. The order it should be between man and woman in his eyes and those like him.

Soon he could feel a warm wetness dripping down his forearm. She was crying.

"Remember the word my mother used to say when I was scared? The word that would open the magic door and I'd be safe? Say the word."

_The funny thing about tears, they're so warm at first, salt burning into the skin. Then it's cold, and you like it so much you don't wipe them away. You let that feeling sink in so you never forget it. No one wants to be happy anymore. It takes to much work. _

"Prince!" She whined. Her voice was raised, but in anxiousness and not anger.

He was awoken from his thoughts. "Yes?"

"Say the word. Please, say the word."

"Kakolukia…" He whispered, kissing her head through the black silk of her hair.

"We need to teach Sana that word when we get him back." She sighed, snuggling into him more.

"Yes, we must. Farah…I know I've been denying you all the things you wish for at night. I've been denying everything, even my duties not only as a husband and father, but as a human being. I'll get Sana back, me and this monster inside of me. We'll get him back. And then I'm done with this war-time life, I swear to you. I don't know what I'll do after that. War is all I know. I admit it, I wasn't ready for love, I wasn't ready for children. I wasn't even ready to be a king. I cannot trust myself around you, just look at your neck…"

But she was already asleep, lighting breathing.

* * *

Her eyelashes fluttered together like butterflies just awakening. There was a simple color of brown and wings that an angel would sin for. She smiled and extended her arm, snuggling with a pillow. Her breathing pattern changed and she fully awoke to an empty room. The Prince had taken off along with Adriant's men to No Man's Land.

**A/N- Read and Review! Or else to No Man's Land for you!**


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